


Her

by cakeby_thepound



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Oblivious Rick, Post-Canon, Richonne - Freeform, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:19:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 86,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4542996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeby_thepound/pseuds/cakeby_thepound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexandria is becoming a viable home for the group, but things aren't perfect, and Rick still finds himself in over his head. He's questioning everything, and slowly but surely, he's learning that Michonne is the answer. </p><p>(Richonne. Time frame: Post S5.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quiet

The night was long underway, and was officially turning to the next day as Rick sat solitarily at his dining table. Everything was quiet as he sat there, eating cookies Carol had made days ago. He liked the quiet, he thought to himself, staring out of the window ahead of him. It was pitch black outside, but he didn't mind the darkness either. It had been so noisy for so long, in his head, at least. His paranoia always running rampant; trying to stay one step ahead. It was tiring.

And when he got to Alexandria, things were just so confusing. It became white noise then. There was Deanna in his ear, then Carol, then Jessie, then Pete. He was hearing everything, and processing nothing. It wasn't until Michonne knocked him out that all the noise stopped. Silence. Peace. Time to think. Time to breathe. He felt better. And that was the reason he could finally actually enjoy the quiet of his home at midnight.

As he finished one cookie and moved on to another, he heard footsteps on the staircase. He tried to decipher who it was by just the sound, but decided it could've been either Michonne or Carol. They both tended to step lightly, he knew, though Michonne was practically soundless sometimes. She moved like a cat. He chuckled to himself at the idea, just as the lights in the room went out. He still hadn't viewed the culprit, but called out to them anyway as he turned in his chair.

"I'm in here," he said, a mouth full of food.

Michonne peered around the corner sleepily, surprised to find Rick sitting there, fully dressed. "What are you doing?" she yawned. She continued across their living room towards the front doors as she waited for his answer.

"I'm just... here," he shrugged. He kicked out a chair for her as he watched her check the locks. "Come visit."

She glanced back at him, a bit perplexed by the request. "Why?"

He avoided her gaze now, looking toward the window when he realized she wasn't in a visiting mood. "No reason in particular," he shrugged again.

"Okay." With a sigh, she took the seat adjacent to his position at the head of the table. "What's up."

"You okay?" he questioned, baffled by her obvious irritation, seemingly with him.

"It's late," she said. She had yawned so many times, her eyes had begun to water. "I just came down to shut down for the night."

He nodded in understanding, taking another bite of his cookie. "You don't have to stay then. I didn't mean to disrupt your flow."

She chuckled a bit derisively and shook her head at him. "You ask me to come sit with you like things are just… copacetic between us."

"Well after our conversations yesterday, I kinda thought they were."

"Of course." She smiled ruefully as she lowered her head. She pursed her lips as she considered how to say exactly what was on her mind.

"Are they not?"

"You can't just… romanticize your lies by saying you did so because I could've changed your mind. I mean, maybe you don't realize it, but it  _hurt_  that you didn't trust me, Rick. And I get it," she nodded, seeing that he wanted to cut in. "I meant it when I said that I'm still with you. But I don't have the luxury of shrugging off what you did and chalking it up to you screwing up. I gave you my implicit trust a long time ago, and I think I deserve that much in return. So you've gotta understand if I don't want to sit with you at midnight, uselessly chatting about cookies. Which we both know would've been the inevitable topic at hand."

He swallowed hard, digesting the weight of his actions, and what they'd done to his friend. His best friend, really. He thought that they'd smoothed things over, but in the fog of everything else, he hadn't realized that wasn't necessarily true. She was upset, and she had every right to be. "I'm sorry," he declared softly, his voice thick with both regret and sincerity.

"You should be."

"I wasn't thinkin'," he said for what had to be the fifth time in two days. "It won't happen again."

"It better not. Because I'm with you, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna put up with bullshit. This isn't unconditional."

He dared to chuckle at that, looking her in the eye as he cocked his head. "So you're sayin' you'd leave me?"

She smiled back at him, silently admitting that she had never seriously considered the notion. But she was feeling too indignant to admit that those words were just words. "Let's not forget who left whom here."

He nodded again, because she was right, again. He had gone somewhere else completely, even if only in his mind, and didn't even mention he was leaving. "Fair enough."

"So I'll rephrase what I said. I'm with you as long as you're with me, Rick."

He sighed heavily, both relieved and scared to hear those words. He had no plans on going anywhere, but those moments always snuck up on him. He never had  _plans_ to lose himself. They just happened, and often in spectacular fashion. How he could promise he wouldn't go off the deep end again, he didn't know. But he would most certainly try. "I'm with you."

"Good," she said, looking him in the eye, letting him know that she believed him, and she was choosing to trust him once again. "Can I go now?"

"You really don't wanna sit with me, huh?"

She scoffed at him attempting to play the victim here, after all of his shenanigans. "It's late," she said. "And thanks to you, we'll be spending all day tomorrow in the sun, so…"

"Thanks to me," he repeated as if the words were foreign to him. "Did we not sit in Deanna's living room all afternoon and decide that was the best next move?"

"We did," she nodded. "Yes."

"And now you're complainin' about it?"

"I'm 'complaining' about you having me sit here for no reason." She offered an obviously fake smile and crossed her arms over her chest. "And those cookies have to be stale by now."

He smirked at the fact that she was correct, and that they were about to be discussing cookies, just as she prophesized. "They are."

"Well, I guess that's no different than ninety percent of what we eat anyway."

"That was how I saw it." He broke his last cookie in half, and then tore the napkin that he was using as a plate, sliding them both across the table to her. "They're not half bad."

"If you have no tastebuds..."

"You sayin' I don't have any taste?" he challenged playfully, his eyebrows raised.

"If the shoe fits..."

"Sam seems to like 'em," he shrugged, taking a small bite.

"Yeah, well he's also eight," she joked.

"I think he's ten."

She frowned at him curiously, surprised that she knew the boy's actual age and he didn't. "I was kidding. He's eleven."

"Oh," he shot back, bemused. He could tell that Michonne thought that was something he should know, given his connection to the Anderson family. "Carol spends much more time with him than I have."

"Not something you've discussed his mother then, I take it."

"Not quite," he confessed.

"I figured with you in the street, ready to die for Jessie, you'd know more about her kids than I do. But... no judgment here."

"That sounds a lot like judgement," he said, stifling a chuckle. "And for what it's worth, that fight with Pete wasn't for her."

"Wasn't it?"

"I mean, I guess some part of it was," he quietly conceded. "But most of it was ego, I think. Just plain old hubris."

She scoffed at the fact that he was avoiding admitting the actual reasoning behind his dick-swinging contest with Pete. From an observer's perspective, he wanted Jessie for himself, and it was that simple. "If you say so..."

He looked up at Michonne, eyeing her intently when it was clear that she didn't believe him. "Nothin'  _happened_  between me and Jessie, if that's what you're thinkin'. I wasn't after another man's wife. I wouldn't do that."

She nodded, hoping that she knew at least that much to be true about Rick. But she had also gotten wind of him kissing Jessie on the cheek at Deanna's party, and it had been hard for her to get a read on him since then. "Sounds like that didn't stop you from kissing her," she said. She avoided his gaze, knowingly stirring the pot as she took a bite of her cookie.

He looked back at her blankly, surprised to hear that she knew about that. "It was a peck on the cheek, " he retorted. "She had Judith, brought her back to me, and I was just sayin' thank you."

"Never seen you kiss anyone else on the cheek," she continued with her mouth full. "And I know at least two of us have saved Judith's life. So..."

"I know I've thanked you, and Carol, and everyone several times over," he chuckled uneasily, suddenly feeling like he was on a witness stand.

"Well… I guess me and Carol and everyone else just aren't pretty enough to deserve a kiss for it then," she prodded, knowing she was making him sweat. "I get it."

"Come on, Michonne, you know you're gorgeous," he blurted out before he could think.

She quirked an eyebrow at his proclamation, but wished she had a mug of something to hide the smile that was trying to sneak past her lips.

"Carol is too," he quickly added in a failed attempt at saving face. But it was true. They all were. "You all are."

"That is accurate," she said, smirking. "I'm glad you agree."

He nodded, finishing off what was left of his cookie, then began to pick the crumbs from the table to drop into his napkin.

"I'm fucking with you, Rick," she smiled, proving his very statement in that moment. "Honestly, whatever you do with Jessie is your business."

He chuckled appreciatively, given the fact that he was already on thin ice with Michonne. He probably would've done whatever she wanted in that moment. "I don't know what's gonna happen," he said honestly. "I don't even know if she's mad at me or what. But I'm not… pursuing anything there."

Given the fact that he had just killed the woman's husband the day before, that sounded like a good idea to her, but she decided against saying anything one way or the other. "As I said, that's your business."

"And you have no opinion on it one way or the other," he nodded sarcastically, knowing that wasn't true. "I got it."

"I don't," she said defensively.

Her harsh tone was confusing and amusing to him. He kept his head lowered, unsure how to cap off their conversation now. He decided to go with something innocuous. "I didn't thank you for last night," he remembered. "For taking care of Carl and Judith while I was… sorting things out with Morgan and Daryl."

"You know you don't have to thank me for that," she said softly, shaking her head. "I thought we came to that understanding back in Atlanta."

"I guess after everything, I wanted to make sure."

"I'm not Jessie," she smirked. "You don't have to kiss me on the cheek for holding your baby."

"All right," he smiled bashfully. She likely wouldn't stop giving him shit for that anytime soon, and he would just have to live with it. "Weren't you goin' to bed?"

"I thought you wanted me to visit…"

"I thought we could unwind, maybe talk about the meeting today. I didn't know you were gonna turn it into an interrogation."

"Men always do that," she said, shaking her head again, disappointedly now.

"Do what?"

"When you get into an uncomfortable conversation, you act like you're being grilled. When the fact is, you just don't wanna have the conversation."

"I don't think that's specific to men," he submitted carefully. "Why does it feel like you're mad at me?"

"I think I am," she answered with a yawn. It was a long and drawn out and dramatic yawn, followed by a sigh. "Or I wish I was. For some reason, I'm not good at being mad at you."

"Well, you looked pretty pissed yesterday morning," he recalled.

"That's because I sat there staring at you for ten hours, and all I had to think about was how stupid you've been lately."

"I find it hard to believe you did that for ten hours."

She crossed her arms again, and sat back in her chair, looking very similar to the way she did when he'd woken up the previous day. "Then you clearly underestimate just how stupid you've been lately."

"Touché," he relented, raising his hands in surrender. "I just want us to be okay."

"We are…"

"And you're okay?"

Michonne nodded this time, a little less sure about that answer.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to get a read of her expression, to no avail. "Well I won't keep you then…"

She didn't move, however, grappling with herself over whether she wanted to actually have the discussion that was happening in her head at that moment. She would usually come to Rick with her worries, but since Alexandria, things definitely felt stilted between them. "I took my sword down," she decided to say, figuring he had already noticed anyway.

"Yeah… I saw that," he confirmed with a nod.

"You didn't say anything."

"I didn't know what to say. Yesterday, you said you didn't need it. And after Pete, I figured you realized you did. That maybe it's safer on your back than anywhere else."

She closed her eyes, taking in his words. The same words she said to herself when she took her katana from the mantle. It was almost jarring to realize how well Rick knew her sometimes. "I suppose there was nothing to say then."

"And you're sure you're all right?" he pressed. He felt like she was holding something back, but his knack for knowing what was on her mind was failing him now. "Even if I can't fix it, I just… wanna know."

She smiled at him gratefully. "I'm fine. Really."

He nodded, accepting that he wasn't going to get much more than that.

"We should get to bed," she said, already grabbing the table to push up from her seat. "Tomorrow is gonna be a long day."

"Aren't they all?" he joked. He stood with her, grabbing both of their empty napkins to leave the table clean.

As he headed off towards the kitchen, she called after him softly, not wanting to wake their housemates. "Rick?"

He turned back to her with his eyebrows raised questioningly. "Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you."

He felt his face flush, even though he had no idea what she was proud of him for. "For what?"

"You did screw up," she said, echoing his sentiments from the day before. "But I see you trying to fix things, even if you're uncompromising in your methods. I know you wanna make this place a home, and I just… since I haven't said much since everything last night, I thought you should know that."

He nodded, running his hands across his stubbly chin and the bandages adorning it, processing her admission. "I appreciate that," he said.

"Good night, Rick."

He watched as she turned for the steps, noticing her light footsteps once again. Michonne had a way of sneaking up on him, he realized, literally, and figuratively. Even on the day they met, she showed up at his gates out of nowhere, taking him by utter surprise and bewilderment. Since then, she had slowly but surely climbed her way to the top of the list of people he trusted most. And now, he found that she was constantly in his head, keeping him grounded, holding him together when nothing else would. He was almost afraid to find out how she would end up surprising him next.

She had already made it up the steps by then, and was probably in her room, but Rick's mouth seemed to be on a delay behind his brain when he finally responded to her. "Night, Michonne."


	2. Loud

"Sam. Please read silently," Jessie snapped at her younger son, in an uncharacteristic outburst of frustration. She had been listening to him narrate  _The Hunger Games_ for nearly an hour, and it had begun to drive her insane. She needed quiet.

He looked over to her in surprise, and timidly replied, "Sorry."

The Anderson home was a mess of emotions, Jessie and her two boys walking around in varying states of depression. She didn't know what to do, what to say, or even how to actually feel. On the one hand, the biggest weight in her life had been lifted from her shoulders, and being able to breathe again was… nice. But then she would look at her children, who'd just lost their father, who didn't fully understand who their father was and how much he'd hurt her, and the sadness on their faces only gave her a different burden to bear.

Instead of addressing it, the three of them mostly just avoided the topic altogether. Pete had been gone for less than two days, so his presence still haunted them. His voice still echoed in the halls. And Jessie wanted nothing more than to keep herself and her boys distracted from it until he finally disappeared, once and for all.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," she reconsidered when she realized how short she'd been with her son. "You can keep reading to me."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, offering her best attempt at a smile, just as there was a knock at the door. "Just hold on a sec." With a sigh, she got up to answer, but her older boy, Ron, came trampling down the stairs just in time to beat her to it.

He swung the door open, expecting to find another neighbor with another casserole for his family; or perhaps his girlfriend was finally coming by to express her condolences and hang out with him. But he was less than thrilled when he saw that Rick Grimes was waiting on his doorstep. The man that killed his father. The man that was ruining Alexandria, but had still somehow become the de facto leader of the place. Ron hated Rick Grimes.

With a roll of his eyes, he turned back to his mother to announce the visitor. "Your boyfriend's at the door," he declared sarcastically.

Rick didn't respond, but waited patiently at the doorstep as Jessie came into view, pushing her messy blonde hair behind her ears as she smiled at him warmly. "Hey, Jessie," he awkwardly grinned back. He had no idea how to speak to her anymore, it seemed.

"Hey." She looked back into the house before pulling the door closed, joining him on her porch.

"I just came to check on you," he said, examining her face. He noted that her black eye was slowly healing, but the splotches covering her cheeks told him she had been crying quite a bit. "How are you guys holdin' up?"

"We're okay," she nodded, biting at her bottom lip. "I'll admit, I kind of expected you to come by sooner."

"I just didn't wanna bother you," he said, sighing, scratching at his forehead with his thumb. "Thought it might be best to give you some time. Let you and your boys grieve."

She nodded again, folding her arms over her chest as she looked out to the rest of their neighborhood and the impending wall project taking place that day. "Truth is, I should've walked away a long time ago. And I wish it hadn't taken you intervening for me to finally wake up." A couple of stray tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped them quickly. "I'm just relieved, Rick."

He looked back at her, glad to hear her say that. Glad to know that he hadn't completely ruined this woman's life in just a matter of days. "That's good to know."

"I mean, the boys… I don' t know if they'll ever get it. Maybe as they get older, they'll understand that things…" She sighed, uncertain of where she was going with her sentence. "They know their father was a bad guy, but…"

"He was still their father," Rick nodded understandingly. He often wondered if that was how Carl felt about him on some level. "I think boys often have complicated relationships with their dads. Sins of the father and all that."

She gazed over to him thoughtfully, wondering what that meant for her boys. "Even when their fathers are dead?"

"Especially then, I'd imagine." Now, he was trying not to think of all the unresolved issues he had with his own father before the world went to shit. "I didn't mean to come over here and derail you from your day. I just-."

"No, no, it's fine," she said, reaching out to touch his arm. "I'm really glad you did come by."

He nodded awkwardly again.

"I'm fine to help today," she went on, hoping he would accept her offer. She was tired of sitting in the house, being isolated. "Whatever you need."

"You really don't have to do that, Jessie."

"It's better than sitting at home with my thoughts."

"I mean, if you wanna help, I'm not gonna stop you."

"I do," she insisted. "What you said yesterday, about being strong? Fixing this place? That was important. And maybe Ethan and the others can't hear what you're saying yet, but eventually they will." She smiled at him again, running her hand along his arm now. "I did."

Rick nodded back at her appreciatively, glad that someone at Alexandria was actually on his side. "I gotta check on Deanna, so I'll leave you to it," he said, patting her shoulder. "But if you wanna help, Carol will be at the front, she can send you to your post."

She smiled gratefully, already ready to get to work. It would be nice to have a distraction for a few hours. "Do you think she can sit with Sam for a while? He's just reading, but I know he really likes her."

"I think that would be fine," Rick squinted, looking back towards his home. He had no idea how Carol would feel about it, but figured it was the least they could do for her family. "I'll see you out there."

"Thank you, Rick," she said before he could walk away. "For everything."

He turned back towards her with a smile and a quick wave, yet again, unsure of how to respond. "I'll see you out there."

When Jessie reentered her home, Ron was standing in the foyer waiting for her, clearly unamused with the fact that his mother was conversing with Rick in the first place, much less, on their porch for everyone to see. And then she had the nerve to be smiling at him as though things were just perfect around there.

"Are you kidding me?" he demanded as she tried to walk past him.

"What's wrong?"

"How can you be so nice to him? After everything?"

She frowned at her son's assertion as she glanced out to the street Rick was headed down. "Why wouldn't I be? He's a nice guy."

"There's no way you can possibly believe that."

"He's not someone to be trifled with," she could admit, "but he's been nothing but good to me. He saved us, Ron."

"Mom," he said her name forcefully, as if begging her to hear him. "Rick is  _dangerous_."

"Your father was dangerous," she shot back, feeling defensive for the man that saved her from him. "Rick did what he had to do."

"And what if 'what he has to do' means killing you next time? Or me? Or Sam? You still gonna defend him? Still gonna think he's your knight coming to rescue you?"

"He wouldn't do that."

"If you really think he gives a shit about you? If you think he would still save you if it came down to you and any of those people in his own family, you're out of your mind."

She watched as he began to walk away and angrily called after him. "Hey!" she stopped him. "You don't talk to me like that!"

"Do what you want, Mom. But don't expect me to hang around and watch it."

Ron turned out of the house, hoping to go find Enid before she could head off to class. They hadn't seen each other in over two days, since everything that happened with his father, and he really just needed to see her face. He needed something familiar. But as he stepped down from his home, the only familiar scene he saw was Enid with Carl, yet again. This time, they were leaving the pantry, eating apples and laughing. Before that, it was the two of them climbing over the walls, sneaking off to who knows where. But if he didn't have the energy to confront them then, he certainly didn't now. So he turned back into his home, and headed straight to his room. Not only did he hate Rick Grimes, but he hated Carl Grimes, too.

* * *

"Hey," Rick nodded nervously towards Morgan when he noticed him approaching. He was in the midst of digging for the group's wall reinforcement project, so he didn't stop what he was doing. Not until he noticed that his friend was just standing there. Or, what he thought to be his friend, anyway. "Everything all right?" he wondered, standing up straight to look at him directly.

"Just wanted to talk to you for a minute," Morgan requested in a calm but serious tone. "Nothin' urgent, but… some folks thought it might need to be addressed sooner than later."

Rick could just guess who 'some folks' were as he glanced back at Michonne, who was still digging beside him. He stuck his shovel in the dirt, using it as an elbow rest as he waited for Morgan to go on. "All right…"

"This project," he started, gesturing towards all the people they had outside the actual ASZ walls, "it's necessary," he offered encouragingly. He wanted it to be clear that he agreed with the need for it. "It's the right thing to do. But some of these people aren't ready."

He nodded, squinting up at the sun and then back to the man in front of him. "That's the whole problem with this place. They need to get ready."

"And you think throwin' 'em to the wolves is gonna get 'em there? After two years of being sheltered, being coddled? These people aren't you and me, Rick."

"Yeah, well if I remember correctly, we were thrown to the wolves, and that was the only way we learned how to survive," he quipped. "At least they've got us surrounding them," he added, looking around to how many of his own people were out there. "My people are capable. They know how to react under pressure."

"Aren't these all your people now?" Morgan questioned, eyeing him carefully. "You seem to keep forgetting that."

"It's force of habit," Rick shrugged. "I know that with Deanna… taking a break, I'm responsible for everyone out here."

"You are."

"But we can't baby them anymore. That's what I've been tryin' to tell Deanna since we got here. They've gotta either learn to fight, or they're gonna die."

"You said that yesterday," he smiled, although a bit mockingly. "Nobody's gotta die, Rick."

He sighed in frustration that he had to keep having this conversation. "Then I'd suggest they fight."

"You don't get it," he nodded understandingly. "You disagreed with me the other night, that's fine. I suppose I didn't expect you to come around in a day or so."

"I don't want this to come off as rude or contemptuous, but I don't think we're ever gonna agree, Morgan."

"I hope you're wrong," he answered sincerely. "Because I don't wanna preach to you, and I'm sure you don't wanna lecture me."

Rick nodded in agreement. "I think we're just gonna have to respect what the other has been through this past year, and agree to disagree."

"You're the leader, Rick. Everybody out here knows that, even if they don't like it. And when you lead a group of people with differing philosophies, you've gotta do more than agree to disagree. You've gotta compromise." He studied Rick's face, staring him in the eye, looking for a sign that he understood what he was trying to tell him. "Now I've heard that you're not too good at compromising these days, and… I can't say that I blame you. I get what you've been through. But everybody here isn't Daryl and Michonne. You  _need_  to work with them."

Rick watched as Morgan walked away from their exchange, digesting his words, which sounded more like an omen than advice. But he would take it seriously, if for no other reason than he didn't want to do any further damage to their friendship.

He turned and walked back to where Michonne was helping Abraham install a panel into the ground. "You hear any of that?"

"All of it," she admitted, not skipping a beat of her task.

"What do you think?" he frowned curiously, beginning to help the two of them.

"I think he's right," she said. "I think you're right."

"That's not even a little helpful."

"You asked me what I thought." She could feel herself getting out of breath, so she took a pause, the two of them stepping away in order to speak candidly. "At some point, you are gonna have to compromise with these people," she said. "Ethan already can't stand the fact that you've taken over, and you're gonna have to give him reason to trust you. But on this? We don't have time to babysit people until they're ready to help. This wall is important. And so is gun training. And we're just gonna have to continue to do both until they're finished."

He nodded, glad that she had some insight that didn't make him feel like he was perpetually making things worse. He really did want better for Alexandria, and this was the only way he knew how to get there. "Thank you."

"I hate to interrupt Mommy and Daddy while y'all are discussing the kids," Abraham interjected sarcastically, "but I could actually use that help y'all were starting to give."

They both turned back to Abe, forgetting that he had even been standing there. But just as they moved to join him, a loud scream from Maggie stopped them in their tracks.

"Rick!" she shouted. "Walkers are comin'!"

* * *

"Rick?" Michonne found her friend sitting on the back deck, a place he often went at the end of the day; particularly on bad days. But dinner was ready, and she thought it best that Rick eat dinner with his kids on a night like this. "You okay?" she questioned quietly.

He turned back to the sound of her voice, but he didn't move beyond that. He knew she would join him if he didn't. "Three people. Gone. Just like that."

"What happened today wasn't your fault," she said, taking the seat beside him. There had been a walker attack outside the walls, which got out of control very quickly, mainly due to people losing their minds over it. "That's what we're here trying to prevent. And they don't seem to understand that these situations only escalate when they don't listen. It's the same thing that happened to Aiden."

"I get that," he sighed. "But it just seems like the losses are endless. Just since we've gotten here, Noah. Aiden. Reg. Pete. Now, it's Patrick, Cynthia, and Mike in a matter of minutes?" He shook his head at the fact that they'd managed to lose six people in only a week. "We're dropping like flies, Michonne."

She had no idea how to comfort him with words, because it truly was a catastrophic number of people to lose so quickly. So she simply rested her hand on his thigh and gazed over to him. "It'll be okay, Rick."

"We keep telling ourselves that, never knowing if it'll come true." He rested his hand over hers, clutching her fingers as he stared out across the landscape of the home beside them. Jessie's home. "Maybe Ethan was right," he said. "Maybe I'm not fit to lead this place."

"Stop it."

"It's the truth."

"We don't have room for doubts. Not now."

"Truth is, all I do is doubt myself," he revealed woefully. "It's become deafening. Ever since Shane, I've been fighting with myself, with my demons, my confidence. I thought the fight was supposed to be over," he said, his voice hoarse from all the yelling he'd done that day.

She smiled at him comfortingly, remembering when she'd said that to him. Just before they found Alexandria and wondered if it could be a home for them. "The war out there? It's probably never gonna end," she admitted, "but you have to stop doubting yourself, Rick. We don't make it here without you. I don't know how you can keep warring with yourself when you look around and see how far you've gotten. That's the fight that's over."

"Doesn't feel like it..."

"That's because you keep blaming yourself for things beyond your control." She stood from their seat, taking his hand with her in a failed attempt at pulling him up, too. "Come. Let's eat."

"I'm not hungry," he declined, softly rubbing her hand with his thumb before letting go. "You go on and enjoy your dinner."

She didn't relent, however, and stood beside him, nudging him out of his seat. "You're gonna have dinner with your kids," she said firmly. "It'll make you feel better."

Together, the two reentered their home, where Carl had already set the table and Judith was in her seat, seemingly waiting for them to appear. "Where're Daryl and Carol?" Rick wondered, noticing that the table was set for four.

"Carol is at Deanna's," Michonne answered nonchalantly. "Daryl is upstairs getting some sleep."

Rick nodded and took a sat at the head of the table, adjacent to Judith. Carl sat across from her, while Michonne sat at the other end of the table, across from Rick. And just like that, family dinner was underway. "What are we eatin'," Rick submitted, staring at the top of the casserole dish in the middle of the table.

"Cream of potato casserole," Carl announced proudly. "Made it myself."

Rick looked at his son in disbelief and then at Michonne for confirmation. "I find that hard to believe," he smirked.

"Don't look at me," she chuckled back. "I was with you all day."

"All right, well maybe Carol helped a little bit," he conceded with an impish grin. "But I did most of it myself."

Michonne hesitantly began to plate a spoonful of the potato-encrusted noodles, trying not to look at it in disgust. "Is it rude if I say that I can tell?"

Rick smiled at her from across the table, trying not to laugh. "It's more than what you or I have done," he reminded her.

"Okay, well I don't know about you, but I can actually cook," she joked before looking back to Carl. "But I'm sure this is great."

He returned her fake grin, knowing that she was just messing with him. "So I guess that means you're gonna have to cook for us one of these days, Michonne."

Rick eyed her as he spooned out a portion of food for himself and a smaller one for Judith. "If you haven't forgotten how, of course. I know it's been a while."

"It's been a  _while_  for a lot of things, and I haven't forgotten how to do them," she quipped. But when Rick's bright blue eyes darted up at her from his plate, she realized how suggestive that sounded. "Like riding a bike," she appended quickly.

"Uh huh."

"So I guess that means next dinner is on you," Carl interjected into their vaguely flirtatious moment. "What are you gonna make?"

Michonne sighed as she gazed at her dinner companions, trying to figure out what she could make that everyone in the house could enjoy. Given their limited resources, she didn't have a whole lot of options. "How about red beans and rice?"

"That sounds so good," he immediately agreed.

Rick eyed her, wondering if he'd somehow missed the fact that she could be from Louisiana and not Georgia, as he assumed. "That's a Creole dish, right?"

"It is," she nodded, finally taking a bite of the delicacy that was their current dinner. "You know, this really isn't half bad," she noted to Carl.

He smiled proudly in reply as he continued to devour his masterpiece.

"Is that just somethin' you know how to make?" Rick continued to question. "Or a family type thing?"

"My dad is Creole, if that's what you're asking," she smirked at him. "He was from New Orleans. We lived there until I was fourteen."

"I never would've guessed," he marveled genuinely. He was enjoying finally getting to know Michonne in bits in pieces now that they finally had some downtime there at Alexandria. "You don't have the accent."

"I know," she nodded. "People are always surprised when I say where I'm from. I never had a heavy accent to begin with, but I think I just sort of dropped it in all my travels," she shrugged. "But if you ever got me back in a room with my family, you'd be shocked to hear what I can sound like."

Rick and Carl smiled at her anecdote, though the three of them became quiet when they realized that that would never happen. That Michonne would never see her original family again. They were all she had now. Which was fine, of course, but she couldn't pretend it didn't ache a bit sometimes.

"So red beans and rice it is," Rick declared, recognizing the anguish that was beginning to show on her face. "Can't wait."

She smiled back at him, grateful that he didn't let her wallow in her sudden onset of sadness. "You have to go get the supplies from Olivia," she told Carl. "I'll make a list for you tonight."

He nodded, taking another bite of his food. "I was over there this morning with Enid. Olivia wasn't even there."

"She had gun training this morning," Rick knew. He watched Judith sloppily chew on a noodle as his thoughts drifted back to what had happened outside the gates. He had definitely pushed them too far, too fast. "Lucky she wasn't out there this afternoon."

It was Michonne's turn to pull his focus back to happier thoughts. "Rick…"

His eyes landed back on Michonne and he nodded knowingly. "Sorry." He decided to focus on a topic he knew they would both enjoy – Carl. "So how was class today?"

"Kind of boring," he sighed in response, looking at Michonne and then his dad. "Ron's still not back, so things are kind of weird without him."

"He probably won't be back for a while," Michonne acknowledged. "You guys might wanna get used to it."

"Yeah, I guess. It was just cool how the four of us could joke around and stuff," he was referring to his crew of Ron, Mikey, and Enid. "Now Enid's all sad because Ron's not around. I dunno, it's just different. I try to cheer her up, but it only works like five percent of the time."

She grinned at his thoughtfulness and took another big bite of his dinner concoction. "I'm sure she appreciates it."

"Well didn't you say the two of them are together," Rick recalled. "Ron and Enid?"

"Yeah," Carl shrugged.

"Well you be careful there. Spending a lot of time with someone already in a relationship probably isn't the best idea."

Michonne had to stop herself from scowling at Rick. Perhaps he wasn't being a total hypocrite, but just wanted his son to learn from his own mistakes. She took a sip of her water and sat back in her chair. "Speaking of which," she went on, still content to give him a hard time about his previous transgressions, "it was nice to see Jessie out there today."

Rick didn't miss her segue being a dig at him, but he ignored it with a small smirk as he also took a sip of his drink. "Yeah, she seems… all right."

Carl looked over to his dad questioningly. "She's not mad at you?"

"I really don't think so," he answered genuinely. "Her boys may be a different story, but I think she actually feels  _better_  in some ways."

She nodded, glad to hear that, both for her and for Rick's sakes. Last thing he needed was another person from Alexandria mad at him. "Well at least you didn't screw _everything_  up," she offered jokingly.

"Yeah, much to my surprise, honestly. But it seems that she's still with me."

Michonne felt a pang of something shoot through her chest when Rick used her own words, verbatim, in reference to someone else. In reference to Jessie? She covered her discomfort with another forkful of casserole, but couldn't bring herself to immediately look at Rick again. He seemed oblivious to the offense, which only unnerved her even more. She was suddenly inside her own head, listening to the sound of her chewing. She wanted to drown the moment out.

"I'll get it," Carl announced to the table.

Michonne watched in confusion as he stood from his seat, inadvertently dropping her fork as she looked up at him. "Where are you going?"

"To answer the door?" he answered, thinking that had to be obvious.

She turned for their front door, where a figure was, indeed, standing behind the curtains. She realized she must have been so far in her own mind that she missed the knock. "Carry on," she nodded him off, feeling silly now.

"You all right?" Rick wondered, catching her eye. She seemed flustered, or perhaps agitated, seemingly out of nowhere.

"I'm fine," she promised, stabbing her fork into more of her food. "I must've started daydreaming."

He took her excuse at face value, considering that she really was fine just a few moments before. And Glenn was approaching the table, so he didn't have time to probe the issue at the moment anyway. "Hey," he greeted their friend casually. "You come for some of Carl's dinner?"

"Uh, not quite," Glenn answered awkwardly, glancing at Michonne and then Rick, almost apologetic for what he was about to say. "I come bearing bad news."

Rick sighed heavily, already burying his face in his hands with dread. "I can't take another death, Glenn. Not today."

"It's not that," he quickly reassured him. "In comparison to that, I guess it's not that bad, but um… " He gestured towards the home next door as he spoke, "I was just walking through the back, and I overheard Ethan talking to Jessie and Heath. Maybe Nicholas and a couple of others, too, but I know I heard the two of them, at least."

"What is it?" Michonne frowned, instantly worried. Carl came to stand by her side as they waited for Glenn to deliver the blow.

"Ethan wants to 'take Alexandria back,'" he revealed regretfully. "He and a couple of others are planning a coup."


	3. Campaigning

Rick gazed around his full living room, taking in all of the people in it. His family. Everyone he arrived to Alexandria with – minus Noah, of course, and Tara still being in the infirmary. It reminded him of their first night there – all of them sprawled across the couches and floors to sleep. Now, they were situated around the room, looking up at him, waiting for him to speak on yet another problem that needed to be addressed.

"I wanna thank you all for comin' over so late," Rick declared. "I know it's been a long day." He leaned against their dining table, in a small space between where Carol and Michonne were sitting. "I did a lot of things wrong when we first got here," he admitted. "Did a lot of lying. And I don't wanna do that again." He caught Michonne's eye, her looking up at him encouragingly as he spoke. "And I don't wanna make this an 'us' versus 'them' thing, but the truth is, that's what it is."

"It ain't gotta be," Daryl piped up from his corner near the window. He had yet to hear the news, same as most of the other people in the room. "Can't make this a home if we just gonna keep fightin' each other."

"You're right," Rick conceded, glancing up at him. "But they're not giving us a choice."

"'They' who?" Carol asked, frowning in confusion.

"We're not sure who all is included, which is why I brought you all here tonight. Ethan's been trying to gain support to take over this place, and I'm not all that excited to find out how many of 'them' he's got on his side."

"So… they plan to overtake Alexandria?" Rosita questioned. "And then what? Kick us out?"

"Probably," Glenn answered from one of the couches.

Abraham walked across the room, leaning against the mantle as he crossed his arms. "They can fuckin' try."

"We're not trying to start a war," Michonne inserted before the guys got the group too riled up. "We're trying to keep our wits about us. We want full disclosure amongst the people we trust. But this is not about fighting."

"But it could come to that," Carol retorted in her usual soft but firm voice. "And the neutral people – Morgan, Aaron, Jessie? They're gonna have to choose a side."

Rick sighed heavily, his eyes darting around the room, nodding at her assertion. She was right. As much as he didn't want to have to pit everyone against each other, he needed to be clear on who was with him. He looked over to Michonne for her approval, but she was staring at the floor. "First thing in the morning, I'll go around and talk to the few people are likely on the fence."

"Maybe if Ethan knows he's in the minority, he'll back down," she agreed.

"That's  _if_  he's in the minority," Michonne inserted quietly. "People are scared. And they do silly things when they're scared."

"Maybe we should just have another town meeting," Maggie suggested. "Get this whole takeover nonsense out in the open."

"We had one yesterday, and all it did was make them angrier," Rosita replied. "We can't keep trying to play nice with people who hate us."

Carol nodded, gesturing towards Rosita. "She's right."

"Let's just see what Rick finds out tomorrow," Michonne said, glancing over to him to confirm. "We can figure out what to do from there."

"What time you two headin' out?" Abraham directed to her. "I can get folks started on the wall in the morning, if need be."

She looked back at him, confused. "Who two?"

"You two," he nodded towards her and Rick. "After last week's… events, it's probably best if they see you with him."

Rick nodded as he checked his watch. "I'd say we should get started around seven. So if you could get everyone to their posts in the morning, that'd be a big help."

"You got it."

"Everyone else, it's business as usual tomorrow," he proclaimed, catching as many eyes as he could as he glanced around the room once more. "We can meet again tomorrow night, assuming they don't all manage to kill us tomorrow."

"That's not funny," Maggie said, rising from her seat.

As the group began to collectively pile out of the living room without responding to Rick's joke, Michonne glanced over to him with a shrug. "I thought it was funny."

"Well, you do have a strange sense of humor," he smirked, his eyes distractedly focused on Carl, standing from the couch. He waited for the room to completely clear of even Daryl and Carol before he went on to speak with her. "Abraham's right, you know. You should come with me tomorrow."

"I don't have a problem with joining you," she said, shaking her head. "I just don't think it'll make a difference."

"It'll make a difference to me," he said, looking her in the eye. His gaze dropped to her bare arm, and the scar that graced her right shoulder. He'd noticed it the day they met, but his gaze was always drawn to it, for some reason. He thought it might be a birthmark, but he liked to think it was a physical manifestation of what she'd undoubtedly been through before they met. "If you don't mind."

"I don't mind." As his eyes studied, her, she found herself staring at the side of his face, noting the gray hairs in his hairline and sideburns that hadn't been there a year ago. He'd been through so much since they met. All she ever wanted to do was make the hard things easier on him. "I'll be there."

He nodded thankfully, and tapped the table with finality. "We should get to bed then." He noticed the odd look that she shot back at him, so he quickly appended, "Separately, I mean. Not together."

"No," she feigned a frown while containing her smile. "Of course not."

"Of course not." He, too, was trying not to smile in the light of another of their playful moments. But he didn't take his eyes off of her. "So I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Unless I run into you eating cookies down here in the middle of the night again."

"We're all outta cookies," he reminded her. "But I'm not sure you didn't pass your sweet tooth on to me. I might be looking for some chocolate in a couple hours."

Michonne was fairly certain he wasn't being suggestive, but the statement made her bite her bottom lip. "Well, I'm gonna hit the shower first, if you don't mind," she declared, hopping down from her seat on the table. "I'll see you in the morning."

He nodded absently, his gaze following as she walked to the front doors to lock up. Her backside drew his attention then, as it often did – living and working with her only gave him more opportunities to notice it – and he had to actively force himself to look away. Instead, he kept his eyes on his shoes as she passed. "Night, Michonne."

* * *

The following morning, a little after 7:00, Rick and Michonne were strolling alongside one another, headed for the apartment of the first person on their list – Morgan. "You're sure we shouldn't be doing this, maybe separately?" Michonne wondered out loud, peering back towards their home. "I feel like I'm your babysitter or something."

"I'm positive," Rick said, glancing over to her. "I've heard from more than one person that people like you more than me."

"Well of course. Which is why you should let me go off on my own," she teased.

"You never saw the President going off by himself when he was trying to seem more likeable. The First Lady was always by his side."

She nodded as if she were discovering something, but more than anything, she was responding to the sudden implication that they were spouses. "I see," she said, pretending to agree. "Simple politics."

"Yeah..."

She stopped walking for a beat, shaking her head at how utterly adorable he could be sometimes, even if she found the notion rather silly. But she said nothing, simply continuing towards Morgan's door, leaving Rick to follow.

He quickened his pace to catch up to her, his eyes fixated on her katana as he reached her. "Why does it feel like you take pleasure in being completely unreadable sometimes?"

Just as they reached their new neighbor's doorstep, she turned to look back at him, wondering if he was really asking such a question. "After the way you acted last week, this is really a question?"

"All right," he rolled his eyes, realizing he misspoke. "But really, you don't have to do this with me if you don't want to."

"No, I think you were right," she admitted, finally knocking on the door. "People need to see us as a united front. Hell, we probably should've brought Carl and Judith for good measure."

He smiled at the idea of them campaigning throughout Alexandria with the kids in tow. "That doesn't sound like such a bad idea, actually."

Before she could reply, Morgan answered his door, fully dressed and seemingly ready to start his day, holding a coffee mug in his hand. He regarded his two visitors with curiosity in his eyes. "Rick. Michonne," he greeted them. "Good morning."

"Morning," Michonne answered with a smile.

"Hey, Morgan," Rick said, nodding towards him politely. "You got a couple of minutes? To talk?"

"Well if the two constables of this place show up at my door, I suppose I have to," he said, pulling back to allow them in.

Rick and Michonne looked at each other, unsure why he chose to address them that way, given the fact that they purposely weren't wearing their uniforms. "I'm not sure I'd call us the constables anymore," Michonne started awkwardly. "We're just Michonne and Rick."

"This is a friendly visit," Rick added, following her into Morgan's living room. "Certainly unofficial."

"Okay," Morgan nodded. He was even more skeptical of their house call now, but he took a seat in one of his free chairs, and encouraged them to do the same. "Can I get you anything? I haven't been to the pantry yet, so I don't have much – only what Carol brought by yesterday. But I've got coffee and some kinda breakfast cookie that filled me up this morning."

"We're fine," Michonne declined for both of them. They had several people to get to before morning shifts started. "Rick just thought it was important to let you know what's going on around here, as of last night."

"Okay," he said, focusing in on Rick.

"They may have already gotten to you, for all I know," Rick began with a sigh. "I don't wanna just assume that your loyalties lie with me..."

"You wanna tell me who 'they' is before you align me with them?"

Rick eyed him carefully, knowing that Morgan already had an idea of just who they were referring to, but went on with explaining himself anyway. "I don't know exactly who's included, other than Ethan, his wife Susan, probably Spencer, and whatever the hell his friend's name is."

"Josh," Michonne supplied for him.

"Josh," Rick nodded. "I know they've talked to a few people. Nicholas, Jessie, Heath. About forming some kind of mutiny against me and our people. I'm just not sure who's agreed."

Morgan sighed as he softly set his mug on the coffee table. "So are you two here to talk logistics, or were you really unsure of whose side I'd be on?" He watched as the duo looked at one another a bit guiltily. "Rick, I followed you up here, because you were the last person I knew in the world. You, Carl, Michonne, you were the last three people I ever laid eyes on before I decided to leave King County. Seeing you that day, you changed my life, for the better. I couldn't see it then, I couldn't hear you. But I did. And I came looking, and I found you," he explained, his voice soft, his cadence steady and soothing. "I found you, and I don't take that, or any of this for granted. You're my friend, Rick, and I'm always gonna be on your side."

Rick nodded, feeling silly for ever doubting him. He had been so caught up in himself, he hadn't stopped to think what it must have taken for Morgan to find him. That he was all Morgan had. His eyes flitted downward, avoiding his gaze. "I don't mean to question you," he whispered.

"I understand why you're uneasy about me. I'm still not gonna kill people. But whatever else you need me to do-"

"You can't keep going around saying 'all life is precious,'" Michonne stepped in, realizing he was still obviously living in some fantasy world, even if he was with Rick. "The last thing we want is a war inside these walls. We've got enough problems outside the gates. But if someone pulls a gun on you and wants to kill you, guess what? Your life is more precious than his. That's just... how it is."

"It always has been," Rick agreed. "But especially now."

"I hear you," he promised. "And I'm not gonna try to stop you from doing what you need to do. I'm not interested in jeopardizing our friendship. But I can't take anybody's life."

Rick stood from the couch, figuring they wouldn't come to a better understanding than that. He nodded as he reached out to shake Morgan's hand. "Then I won't ask you to."

"Agreeing to disagree," he smiled at Rick, recalling that he'd chalked it up to that the day before. Perhaps that really was all they could do. "I guess I'll see y'all out at the wall."

"You will," Rick said, heading for the door.

Michonne followed behind, studying Rick's body language as she did. His walk told her that he was exhausted, probably even annoyed, by the circles they were going in, as he stepped outside. Michonne turned back to Morgan with a small smirk on her face. "I'm sorry," she said, hoping her outburst and Rick's exit didn't come off as rude. "He's under a lot of pressure right now."

"Good thing he has you then, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is," she frowned, uncertain of how to respond to that. His intonation almost felt sarcastic.

"I mean it, Michonne. I've been where he's been, and lord knows I could've used someone like you to keep me from completely unraveling. You do us all a favor and stick by his side?"

She swallowed hard as she took in his words, nodding in agreement as she turned to join Rick outside. She found him staring down the block, scowling, as if he'd just gotten some bad news. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," he shook his head, looking at her now. "What'd he say to you?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, figuring it useless to tell him. "Where to next?"

"Heath is right here," he gestured towards the condo situated across from them. "Might as well."

* * *

By 8:00am, Rick and Michonne had made it through a couple more of their neighbors, including Heath, Tobin, Giselle, Olivia. They all said some version of the same thing – they didn't want to get involved, just wanted to keep their families safe. On the bright side, they trusted Rick more than Ethan to do that, but that wasn't exactly rousing support, or even a glowing testimony.

"At least none of them seem to hate you," Michonne commented, the two of them trudging up the steps to Aaron and Eric's home now.

"I almost wish they did," he said, squinting back towards the street. "I remember Carol telling me, back at the prison, it was time to choose a damn side. That's what I wanted to say to them."

"Well I'm glad you didn't," she smirked.

The door quickly opened, and Aaron greeted his guests with a welcoming grin. "Well if it isn't the President and First Lady of Alexandria," he said, widening his doorway. "Come on in."

Rick glanced at Michonne with his eyebrows quirked, as if to say, 'I told you.' And she smiled back at him, trying not to audibly laugh at their silly conversation from earlier.

"Were you expecting us," Michonne questioned, following Aaron to the kitchen, where Eric seemed to be waiting for them.

"Well. We saw you going around," he admitted, gesturing for them to take a seat at the kitchen counter. "Figured we were either next, or we'd be getting some bad news at some point later today."

Rick nodded, greeting Eric as he sat in one of the open stools. "We're not payin' everyone a visit," he confirmed. "Just people we trust."

"I'm guessing this has something to do with Ethan and Spencer's 'Rick Grimes is a terrorist' campaign."

"That would be a correct guess," he exhaled sharply.

"You don't have to worry about us," Eric proclaimed, glancing at both Rick and Michonne. "We know you're good people. Even after what happened, we're not turning on you."

"What happened with Pete was tragic," Aaron added, his expression turning serious. "But despite the rumors of whatever, we do still trust you, Rick."

"Rumors about what?" Michonne frowned curiously. She wasn't a fan of being out of the loop on the Alexandria side of things, but it was beginning to seem like a pattern at that point. "Rick?"

Aaron's bright blue eyes shifted between the two of them uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, I thought everyone was talking about it…"

"About what?" Rick squinted, intrigued now, himself.

"People were implying… or outright saying… that you just wanted Pete out of the way so that you could have Jessie."

Michonne instinctively rolled her eyes, sighing heavily at the notion, but she couldn't be surprised. That was exactly what it looked like.

"Who's saying this?" Rick pressed. "People in my group?"

"I don't think so. Just… the usual busybodies with nothing better to do."

"They used to talk about me and Aaron all the time," Eric shrugged. "Probably still do."

That didn't stop Rick from being bothered by it. "It wasn't what it looked like," he said. "Pete would've killed her."

"Rick would've done that for anybody," Michonne stated plainly; confidently. "They don't understand that about him yet."

He glanced over at her, moved by her faith in him. Even when he didn't deserve it. He gave her a slight nod of thanks, before looking back to Aaron and Eric. "We don't mean to take up all your morning. Just wanted to see if we could count on you in the event that things go south with this whole Ethan thing. And Spencer, apparently."

"We've had our differences, I know," Aaron said to Rick, "but I've most certainly got your back. We just don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Well I can't promise that," Rick answered honestly. "I don't know what they've got planned, and I'm telling my people to be ready for anything."

"I can promise that that'll be our last resort," Michonne offered, hoping they would take that as a symbol of compromise. She was trying to take into account what Morgan told Rick the day before. He would have to cooperate with these people if they had any chance of success there. "I'll make sure it's his, too."

Rick chuckled, knowing that Michonne really did have that power. "Just in case you were wondering who's really in charge," he joked with the couple, for what had to be the first time since they'd met. "I guess we'll keep you posted if we hear anything more."

"We'll do the same," Eric said, smiling at the two of them. "In the meantime, you should come by for dinner sometime. We'd really love to have you."

"We would," Aaron nodded. "We had Morgan over last night, and it was great. It's kind of our thing."

"We'll have to do that sometime then," Rick accepted for himself and Michonne. "Thank you."

The four of them said their goodbyes, and Rick and Michonne were back on the sidewalk, ready for the next stop on their campaign trail. "That was easy," she noted, staring up at the sun. By her estimation, it was still somewhere in the 8:00 o'clock hour, which meant they had gotten through their task fairly quickly. "Do we even need to talk to Jessie?" she questioned, as they headed next door. They were both quite sure where her loyalty lied, so the visit seemed pointless. "You already said that she's still with you." She was glaring at the back of Rick's head as the words sarcastically came out of her mouth.

"We're just makin' sure," he answered, still ignorant to the fact that his choice of words ever bothered her. "Plus, she can tell us exactly what Ethan said."

"All right," she rolled her eyes, slowly following him up the steps to her porch.

They only had to wait a few seconds after Rick's knock for her to open the door. She appeared before them, still dressed in the tank top and pajama pants she'd worn to bed. "Hey," she greeted them both, somewhat startled to see Michonne standing there with Rick. That had never happened before. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Rick assured her in an uncharacteristically soft tone. "Just wanted to talk for a minute, if you don't mind."

"About Ethan," Michonne added.

"Oh god," Jessie sighed, her eyes widening knowingly. She threw her hair into a ponytail as she kicked the door open for them. "Sure, come on in."

The three of them settled in Jessie's living room, where she knew the boys wouldn't necessarily hear them from upstairs. There was an unfinished sculpture hanging out near the broken window, which Michonne stopped to admire - as she often did when she discovered a piece of art - while Rick took a seat next to Jessie.

"So I guess you've heard that Ethan wants to take Alexandria back," she declared, rolling her eyes at the mere thought. "I don't even know what the hell that means."

"That's the general consensus from everyone we've talked to," Rick revealed, smirking at the stupidity of it all. "It's nice to know that I'm not the crazy one for once."

"What did he say to you?" Michonne decided to ask her.

Jessie shook her head, trying to recall the nonsense he and the others had been spewing the night before. "Just the same stuff he's been saying. 'Rick is unfit to lead; he's bloodthirsty; he doesn't give a shit about us.' Stuff like that."

"Same thing Father Gabriel said about us," Michonne commented to Rick.

He nodded, having noticed the same. "He tell you any specific plans for when somethin's supposed to go down?" he asked Jessie.

"Nothing like that," she shook her head again. "It felt like he wasn't getting as much support as he wanted, maybe needed. I dunno."

"Did you say anything to him?" Michonne inquired, finally taking a seat across from the two of them.

"I just said that I supported Rick. I probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for him... For all of you." she appended. "And I just tried to remind them of what Rick said to me a few days ago… yes, it's scary out there. And yes, it's heartbreaking that people are dying left and right, but… we have to take our lives into our own hands at this point. Because if we can't? If we don't fight? Then we're gonna die. And it's that simple."

Rick nodded again, relieved by the fact that he had gotten through to her, at least. Even if she was just one person, it meant a great deal to know that his words weren't completely useless. Maybe Deanna was next on that list. "So if this turns into something else. I don't wanna say 'war,' but… that's essentially what it'll be…"

"No matter what, I'm on your side," Jessie promised. She gently hit his arm and smiled at him. "You don't even have to ask that."

"Well, assumptions are dangerous-."

" _Rick, you there?_ " The sound of Abraham over the walkie-talkie cut into their conversation, and Rick immediately pulled the device from his back pocket. " _Come in, Rick._ "

"Sorry," he said to both Jessie and Michonne as he pulled the walkie to his lips to respond. "I'm here, Abraham."

" _Don't panic_ ," Abe said, " _but according to Sasha_ _, we've got ourselves a code red approaching out here at the wall._ "

He frowned at the information, and looked up to Michonne, seeing that she appeared just as confused. He hit the button on his radio again and replied, "What the hell is a code red?"

" _A fuck ton of walkers, goddamn it. About two miles out, she says."_

"Shit." Rick had already stood from his seat in a small panic, despite Abraham's instruction to stay calm.

"Why are there so many walkers coming around all of a sudden?" Jessie whispered to Michonne, just as Rick moved towards the hall for some privacy. "We never had this problem before."

"The gunfire, most likely," Michonne answered quickly and quietly. She was trying to eavesdrop on Rick's conversation.

"Right. That's why we train with those rifles that can be silenced."

"That would be why," she nodded back, feeling like she was talking to a child. "Walkers are attracted to sound, light, our smell, if we're close enough. It's serious out there."

"God, there's so much to learn about those things," she noted, both frustrated and awed by the fact that she knew so little. "I dunno how you guys did it."

"We didn't have a choice," Michonne shrugged. She turned towards the entryway of the living room, where Rick was replacing his walkie-talkie to his back pocket. "What's going on?"

"I talked to Sasha," he said, sitting down next to her now. "She thinks there's a good hundred walkers approaching the gates. She can't take 'em all."

"That's not too bad," Michonne nodded in relief. "But you should go."

"Yeah…"

"I've got Judith while Carl goes to class," she said, knowing he was trying to work out a babysitting schedule in his head. "Go on."

"Oh, I can take Judith," Jessie offered enthusiastically. "So you both can go. And Carol, and whoever needs to."

They both looked back at her, but differing answers simultaneously came out of their mouths.

"That would be great," Rick accepted gratefully.

"That's okay," Michonne declined with a tense smile. She then looked over to Rick, processing the fact that he'd just agreed. "I mean, that is… up to Rick, of course."

He wasn't sure what to say, as he'd already conceded to Jessie. But it was clear that Michonne was not okay with the idea. "Michonne can… she's got it covered," he awkwardly reconsidered, avoiding Jessie's gaze now. "No need to put you out."

"Of course," Jessie nodded, smiling at the two of them in equally uncomfortable accord. "No problem either way."

"So… I guess we should go," Rick said, hopping up from his seat. That room was suddenly the last place he wanted to be. "Thank you," he directed to Jessie.

Michonne popped up, confused by everything that was happening, but was happy to follow him towards the door.

"If you do need anything," Jessie said, walking them out, "just let me know."

"I will," he promised, still hesitant to look her in the eye. "I'll come by to check on you later."

For what felt like the millionth time that morning, the dynamic duo stepped down onto the street, Michonne peering at Rick, trying to figure out just what was going on in his head. He noticed her stare, looking back at her as they walked towards the front. "What?"

"What the hell was that about?" she posed brusquely.

He shook his head, clearly unsure of what she was referring to. "What was what about?"

"You're okay with leaving your kids with just anybody now?"

"You're the one that said I have to let these people in," he shrugged. "I trust Jessie."

"With your kids," she pressed. "You don't even trust Morgan to back you up, but her, you're good with."

"Those are two different things, Michonne."

"It's all about your judgment skills. Or lack thereof," she said, shaking her head.

He chuckled at the small insult and stopped on the street, waiting for her to do the same. "You know, I'm starting to get the feeling that you don't exactly care for Jessie."

"And I'm starting to get the feeling that you really do," she shot back, examining his expression for a reaction. "Which is fine..."

"Even if that's the case, you don't have to worry, y'know."

"And what in God's name would I be worried about?"

"Jessie can't replace you," he smirked, waiting to see what her reaction would be now. He knew that even the implication would get under her skin, even if she wanted to act nonchalant about it.

Michonne immediately scoffed at the idea, as she was fully aware that she was irreplaceable. She was already turning to start walking back towards their home. "You know what..."

"What?" he called after her, grinning at her teasingly.

"Maybe you should get to the front, before I knock you out again."

He chuckled inaudibly, and playfully clutched at his chest, as if she were breaking his heart. "That's how it is?"

"That is precisely how it is," she said, waving him off towards his duties. She had a smile on her face as she watched him walk away, but couldn't help but mumble under her breath, "Dumbass."

When she turned back for her home, she caught sight of Jessie standing on her porch, seemingly watching Rick leave as well. She glanced at Michonne as she passed, sending a warm grin her way. "It's nice to see him smile," she commented, still watching him.

Michonne frowned up at her, a bit baffled by the declaration. "I'm sorry?"

"With everything going on, Rick's seemed a little down lately. And I noticed you guys laughing up there," she explained. "I was just saying that it's nice to see..."

Michonne nodded, but her gut reaction was to feel almost offended by this woman's assertion. What could she possibly know about Rick's emotional state? His moods? It nearly felt like an intrusion into their friendship. "That's just how he is," she answered vaguely. "No worse than usual."

Jessie nodded back. "I just worry about him sometimes. Knowing all the stuff he's seen, all the things he has to do to keep everyone safe."

Michonne smiled, but she was certain that Jessie didn't even know the half of it. "I should get home," she decided to say, not wanting to discuss Rick any further with this stranger. She didn't like discussing Rick with many people, she was realizing. She always felt the need to protect him.

"Of course," she shook her head, realizing her neighbor probably had a laundry list of things to do. "You have a good day, Michonne."

"You too, Jessie."


	4. Fighting

**Chapter 4: Fighting**

Michonne was the last to take her seat at the dinner table, and she smiled at her companions proudly as she looked upon her masterpiece - red beans and rice with cornbread to complement, as promised. Carol, Daryl, and Carl all looked at her expectantly, while Judith stared hungrily at her brother's plate.

"Should we wait for Rick?" Carol wondered, glancing out of the nearest window one last time.

"No," Michonne shook her head, waving off the notion. "He may have had an emergency to tend to." That didn't stop her from glancing at the door herself, somewhat hoping he'd find his way home just in time to join them. But no such luck. "I don't want our food to get cold."

Daryl took that as an invitation to dive in, and he did exactly that. The remaining three hesitantly began their meals, but couldn't help but wonder just where the hell their friend and father had disappeared to.

"This is fantastic," Carol eventually announced, her mouth full of food. "Goodness."

"Michonne's been holding out on us," Carl agreed as he offered Judith a spoonful of rice.

Daryl looked up from his half finished plate, taking a sip of wine as he gazed at their chef for the evening. "Where you learn to cook like this?"

She smiled cheekily in reply, pleased that they were pleased. "I've been on my own since I was sixteen," she shrugged nonchalantly. "If I hadn't learned to cook, I would've starved."

"You mean you didn't live on ramen noodles and grilled cheese like most college students?" Carol smirked at her.

"Oh, I did," Michonne chuckled. "And after growing up on my dad and grandmothers' food, it was a rude awakening. I swear, I just woke up one day like, 'Yeah, no. I have to learn to cook.'"

Carl and Carol laughed out loud as Daryl scraped his plate clean. "Well lucky for us you did," he said. "There's more of where this came from, I hope."

"There's plenty on the stove," Michonne nodded. "Just save some for Rick, okay?"

"He shoulda been here," he shot back, already on his way towards the kitchen.

She shook her head in response as she fed Judith some of her own food. Mostly rice, with a couple of beans to see how she liked them. The baby quickly chewed and swallowed her food, and instantly reached out for more. Michonne smiled happily, reminded of the way Andre reacted to her cooking, always looking for another bite. And red beans were his favorite. It was the perfect toddler meal, soft and filling.

"Even Judy likes it," Carl commented, looking on. He put a few smushed pieces of cornbread on her tray for her to enjoy as well.

"And lord knows that baby has gotten picky in the past few weeks," Carol submitted, observing her with a small smile as well. "It's like we got to Alexandria and she forgot she was born in a prison."

"Aww," Michonne grinned at Carol and then back at the baby. "She just upgraded her tastes a little. That's okay."

"She ain't the only one," Daryl said, returning to the table with a small mountain of food on his plate. "I ain't eatin' anymore beans out a can after this."

"Let's hope we don't have to," Carol agreed, continuing her dinner. "I could really eat this everyday, Michonne."

"I'm glad you like it," she returned genuinely.

"Michonne said she's gonna try to make us some jambalaya, too," Carl announced to the room, clearly happy about the idea.

"I said maybe," she reminded him. "I'd really like to make gumbo, but those both seem like a longshot."

"Aaron said they went out to Virginia Beach last summer, caught some fish," Daryl inserted casually. "Oughta be some shrimp out there if we're willin' to look."

"Oh my god," Carol's eyes brightened excitedly. "Seafood would be amazing."

"No kidding," Michonne agreed. Her mouth was watering just thinking about it. "We have to get to a shore before summer is out."

"We can get that set up," Daryl promised with a nod. "Once we get all this other shit taken care of, it ain't nothin' to ride out to Chesapeake Bay."

"And Maryland was known for their crabs," Carol added. "Can you imagine? Fresh crab?"

Michonne rolled her eyes in delight. "I actually can't," she joked.

"I never liked seafood and shellfish before," Carl shook his head. He gave Judith another spoonful of beans and rice before adding, "But I'd basically kill for it now."

"Let's hope we don't have to kill for it," she chuckled in response.

The table went into comfortable silence as they all continued to consume their meals, but it wasn't long before they heard the sound of the door opening, and Rick walked in slowly, tiredly. He was trying to suppress a yawn as he entered the dining area, where his kids and housemates were all staring back at him now.

"Hey," he greeted them coolly. He took a glance at the table, realizing that he was not only late for dinner, but Michonne had been the one to cook. "Looks like I'm late to the party."

"You are," Carol said, eyeing him carefully. He looked clean as a whistle, so she could guess that he wasn't late due to walker duty. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, I got caught up next door at Jessie's," he said, shaking his head as if it were no big deal. "Sam had this computer game that wouldn't work, and I wasted all this time tryin' to figure out what the hell was wrong with it… turned out, it needed a new battery."

Daryl continued to inhale his food, while Michonne took a sip of wine, and Carol quirked an eyebrow at the information. "What were you doing over there in the first place?"

He shrugged and moved towards Carl's side of the table, taking a piece of his cornbread for himself before leaving a quick kiss on the top of Judy's head. "I try to check on her before I come home in the evenings," he revealed. "Make sure she's all right, doesn't need anything."

"That's nice of you."

"She's been through a lot this past week, and she's takin' it like a champ. Figure it's the least I can do."

"Did you see Ron?" Carl asked, craning his neck up to see his father. "Is he doing okay?"

"I didn't see him," Rick denied, brushing his son's hair from his face. "But Jessie did say he'll be back in class tomorrow."

"Sweet."

"You should eat," Michonne cut in to tell Rick. She no longer wanted to hear about Jessie or her family, and she found herself annoyed by the fact that he was late to dinner because he'd been over there, instead of with his own family. "There's a clean plate already set out for you. Rice is in the left pot, beans are on the right."

"If Daryl didn't take them all," Carl joked.

"Hey, the shit was good," Daryl shot back, sitting back in his chair to alleviate his full stomach. "You shoulda been here."

"That's fair," Rick had to admit, though he knew they were joking. "Anybody need anything while I'm in the kitchen?"

"More wine," Michonne said, finishing what little she had left and then holding out her glass. "Fill it up."

He reached out to take the glass and nodded back at her with a small smile. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Carol, along with a very sleepy Judith, brought Rick the last remaining dish from dinner, but her gaze was on Michonne, outside on the back patio. She'd gone out there after she finished eating nearly thirty minutes ago, and seemed to be staring into oblivion.

"Is she okay?" she decided to ask Rick, though she wasn't sure he'd have any clue. She knew from experience that he could be oblivious when it came to other people's feelings.

For the third time that night, he glanced out to where she sat, shaking his head. "I imagine so." He turned from the back door and pulled the last few dishes into the sink. "It's hard to tell with her sometimes."

"She seemed… annoyed once you came in," Carol had noticed. "Everything's okay with the two of you?"

"We're good," he nodded, figuring he knew at least that much. "Maybe she's just a little on edge about whatever this coup is supposed to be."

"It's been two days and we haven't heard a peep. Maybe it's supposed to be nothing," she said, switching Judith to her other hip. "Maybe he didn't get the support he thought he had."

"Maybe," Rick agreed. "But there's no way to know. And Michonne is cautious."

"More cautious than you?" Carol simpered.

"She can be," he smirked back. "I dunno if that's what's wrong. I don't know if anything is wrong. But it could be."

She nodded, but that answer didn't seem right, didn't feel right. It was clear that Michonne was perfectly fine until Rick walked in the door. "Did you maybe promise you'd be home at a certain time tonight?"

Rick looked at her in confusion as he placed the clean dishes on the drying rack. "No…"

Which likely meant that Michonne wasn't a fan of Rick coming home late due to being with Jessie. In which case, Carol did not want to get involved in whatever that meant. "Well, I'll just assume that you know her better than I do."

"I think that's an accurate statement," he chuckled, sending another glance her way. "I was gonna check on her once I finished in here," he promised.

"I think that's a good idea," she nodded. "Sometimes, we hurt people's feelings without even knowing."

He nodded back at her, though a bit puzzled by the statement. But he could tell that something was likely bothering Michonne, and that never sat well with him. "I got it, Carol."

"I hope you do," she finished, a bit ominous in her tone. "I'll see you in the morning."

Rick watched the two of them disappear from the kitchen and stared at the stove, where he had two big pots left to clean before he was done with his task. But he was much more interested in what was going on outside, so he dropped his dishtowel, turned off the water, and headed for the back door to check on his friend.

Michonne didn't turn at the sound of the door opening, knowing that it was Rick. She could pinpoint the sound of him walking in those boots from a mile away. Could picture his slow gait without needing to see it. She could hear him walking towards her, and she sighed, not sure whether she wanted to engage with him at the moment.

He plopped down on the bench, just next to her, and looked out to the wall that she seemed to be fixated on. "You okay?" he questioned softly.

She sat back, crossing one leg over the other, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm fine."

"Just out here staring into oblivion for no reason?"

"I'm enjoying the evening," she retorted evenly. "It's nice out here."

"It is," he agreed, sitting back with her. "Quiet…"

"Well, it was."

He gazed at the side of her face, wondering why and how she seemed annoyed and at peace at the same time. "Am I bothering you?"

"No," she closed her eyes. "I'm just thinking too much."

"You wanna share?"

"No," she smiled, looking back at him now. "It's petty."

"Well I'm fine with petty," he offered with a small smile in return. "We don't have to just talk about the big, bad stuff all the time."

"But we usually do." She crossed her leg towards him now. "I think you prefer it that way. I know I do."

"Since when?"

"Since… I dunno," she shrugged. "Seems safer that way."

He frowned at the idea that the two of them having less serious conversations could somehow be dangerous. "Safe from what?"

She wanted to tell him it was the best way to keep from getting her feelings hurt, but she knew it was a silly sentiment. Rick had every right to do whatever he wanted with Jessie. And if she were being honest, it was a good thing that he cared enough to watch over her. Things like that were why she trusted Rick in the first place. "I've had a lot of wine," she sighed. "I don't know what I'm talking about."

"That's a copout," he chuckled knowingly. He stretched his arm behind her head, and let his head lazily fall back against the bench, staring up at the sky. "But that's fine. I'd rather stay under the illusion that we're as close as I think we are."

"It's not illusion," she chuckled lightly, hitting his thigh. "I'm just not in a sharing mood tonight, I guess."

"That's fine," he repeated. "Silence is better sometimes, anyway."

"It is," she whispered.

"But if it's me that's bothering you, I hope you'll let me know at some point."

"It's me," she assured him. She repositioned on the seat so that her back was facing him, and nestled against him, using his arm as a headrest. "We're fine."

"You're not sick, are you? Because I killed the only doctor we had."

"Jesus, Rick," she coyly chuckled at his grim sense of humor – something they shared, it seemed, because she often found him funny.

"I'm just sayin', don't go gettin' sick on me," he went on jokingly. "I need you at a hundred percent."

"You do need me, don't you," she grinned sleepily. His warm arm was the perfect pillow against her cheek.

He turned his head her way, studying the rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed softly. Those perfect shoulders of hers, always drawing his attention. He wanted to reach out and touch them so badly, and he wasn't even sure why. "I do…"

"Well," she sighed lightly, thankful that he was there in that moment, even if he hadn't been earlier, "you think about that next time you're late to another one of my dinners."

He let out a light chuckle through his nose and let his head fall back again. He could've fallen asleep right then, right there, in the comfort of Michonne's presence. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

The next afternoon, after another peaceful morning without a coup, Michonne and Judith were sitting in the kitchen, enjoying leftovers for lunch, when Carl came bursting through the front door. He had only been gone to class for about thirty minutes, so Michonne knew that something had to be wrong.

"Carl?" she called out to him. She didn't leave her spot, not wanting to leave Judith unsupervised, but waited for him to appear.

"It's me," he confirmed. He slowly walked into the kitchen with a scowl on his face, and his hair and clothes completely disheveled.

Michonne's eyes widened at the sight of him, wondering if he'd gone somewhere other than class. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Ron Anderson," he grumbled angrily. "We got in a fight and Mrs. Neidermeyer sent us home."

"Why were you fighting?" she questioned, approaching him to examine him. Besides a ripped shirt and some red cheeks, he seemed no worse for wear. "What happened?"

"Because he's an asshole."

She refrained from chiding him for his language, but looked at him knowingly. "Just yesterday, you were excited about him coming back to class," she reminded him. "What could've gone wrong so quickly?"

"He called me and my dad ignorant hicks. Said the only reason Dad killed Pete was so he could sleep with his mom, and he was like, 'So who's really the bad guy here?' It was so messed up, the way he said it," he explained, shaking his head. "He was even mean to Enid. It's like he hates us all." He wiped at his cheeks, as if he could wipe the anger away. "Me, most of all."

"He's hurting," she sighed, trying to brush his hair back into place. "You can't take it personally."

"It was really personal, though. Like, he pointed out how Dad is always at his house, flirting with a widow. And what could I say?"

"He's trying to make sure she's all right," Michonne rebutted in his defense, though even she knew it was a weak stance. "I don't know."

"I didn't know either," Carl shrugged. "So I just punched him."

"You're more like your father than I thought," she tried to joke, but a knock at the door interrupted their conversation. "Stay here with your sister," she said, already having a good idea of who it would be. She quickly headed for the front, where Jessie and Ron were, indeed, visible in the window. With a big sigh, she pulled the door open, smiling comfortingly at them both. "Hey."

"Hey," Jessie sent an apologetic grin back. "Is Rick home?"

"He's at the quarry on a supply run," Michonne shook her head. She glanced at Ron, who had a bloody nose, and realized the fight might have been a little worse than Carl's lack of injuries led her to believe. "You all right?"

He just nodded, while Jessie remained behind her son, holding his shoulders. "I'm really sorry about this," she offered to Michonne instead. "Ron told me he said things he shouldn't have."

"It's fine," she smiled back. "You guys have been through a lot. I wish Carl could've been a little more understanding."

"Boys will be boys, right?"

Michonne had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the silly phrase and nodded. "It's gotta be hard for all these kids. "

"The adults too," Jessie sighed softly. "Would it be okay to talk to Carl then? I did want Ron to apologize."

"Sure," Michonne allowed, turning to call for the teenager. "Carl!" The three of them waited for him to appear, holding Judith, and Michonne took the toddler from him as he stepped towards the porch. "Ron wanted to speak with you," she revealed, moving out of the way of their exchange.

"Go on," Jessie whispered to her son, pushing him forward.

He removed the washcloth he had covering his nose and glared at Carl. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"You're sorry for what," his mother prodded.

"I'm sorry your dad's an asshole," he said sarcastically. "I know the feeling."

"Ron!"

Carl scoffed and looked back at Michonne, silently questioning whether he could go back inside, while Ron looked back at his mother with disdain.

"That's the best I can do," he shrugged.

Jessie's face was red with embarrassment, and she looked at both Carl and Michonne like a deer in headlights. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Michonne promised, understanding the kid's anger. "We can try this again when they've cooled off a little. Maybe when Rick gets home."

"This is just so inexcusably rude," she shook her head. "I don't know what to say..."

Her words trailed into silence when they realized they were hearing a strange sound ringing throughout the community. Gunshots. Just one at first. Then another. And then they began to come in a succession, loud and uninterrupted. It could have been someone taking down walkers at the gate. Someone that clearly wasn't Sasha, who had a silencer on her rifle. But that didn't feel like what it was.

"Get inside," Michonne instructed the three of them immediately. She pulled her walkie-talkie from her belt clip as she carefully inched across the porch to try and get a view of the front. "What the hell was that?" she questioned for anyone that could hear.

The gunshots continued, until finally, Maggie came through on the other end. " _We've got visitors_ ," she said quickly. " _They're tryin' to get in_."

"Visitors makes it sound like people," Michonne replied, confused; hopeful that she meant walkers.

Rick's voice came over the transmitter, sounding more frantic than she ever wanted to hear. " _I need you up here_ now," he said emphatically. " _With a gun_."

"Shit," she whispered to herself. At least Rick was back, she figured, but things sounded dire. "I'm on my way," she told him, already back inside the house. She instinctively grabbed her katana, but also moved quickly to unlock their weapon supply closet, and picked out a couple of rifles to bring with her.

"What's going on?" Jessie approached her, having heard Rick over the walkie. "More walkers?"

"I honestly don't think so," Michonne replied distractedly. She ran into the kitchen to give Carl his instructions, more concerned with him than anything Jessie was saying. "I need you to get in my room, get the rifle in my closet, and keep your sister safe," she told him. "Don't come out until someone you trust comes to get you."

"I won't," he promised.

"You two should stay here," she directed to Jessie and Ron. "Carl can protect you."

"No, I have to get Sam," Jessie answered worriedly. "I left him home, thinking we'd be right back."

"I'll send him this way on my way out," Michonne assured her, softly squeezing her arm. "I'll make sure he gets here."

"Please do," Jessie begged.

She handed Carl her radio and sighed heavily, hating to leave him on his own like this. "Keep your eyes peeled, and you use that if you see anything strange back this way, all right?"

"Got it," he nodded again, understanding that she was trusting him with a big task here. He watched as Michonne made a beeline out of the house, and he turned back for his guests, now responsible for keeping them out of the line of fire. "We should get upstairs," he directed them confidently.

Before anyone could respond, Daryl came trampling down the steps in a groggy confusion, both due to the gunshots, and the two extra people in his home. "What the hell's goin' on," he asked Carl.

He shrugged in reply. "Michonne just took off running towards the gates to find out."

Without another word, he grabbed his crossbow from the top of the supply closet and headed out of the door, just as Sam came running up the porch. It was officially just Carl, Judith, and the Andersons. Jessie looked around in disbelief that she had to rely on Rick's son to protect her.

"I've done this before," he said reassuringly, reading her mind. "I've been through enough attacks to know how these things go."

Jessie nodded, feeling a bit childlike as she and her sons followed Carl up to Michonne's room. She realized then that she had never been this far into Rick's home before, and it gave her a strange feeling. She wished he were home, so it wouldn't feel as if she were intruding on him. But she was so curious. Everything about him intrigued her. This cowboy sheriff, with a family that looked like one of those old school Benetton ads, all of them expert survivors.

She watched Carl move around the room that Michonne called her own, and pull out a large rifle, as well as two handguns. He put one of them in his back pocket and then approached her with the other.

"You ever shot a gun before?" he asked.

She nodded as she accepted the small pistol.

"Good," he sighed. "We'll try not to use them, but if the gunshots get close, you'll have to keep it handy."

Ron looked on, somewhat awed by the fact that Carl was younger than him, yet so much more capable. "Your dad taught you all this?" he wondered out loud.

Carl looked at him cautiously, wary of Ron even speaking of his father. "I've learned a little from everyone I know," he decided to answer. "My dad's best friend taught me how to shoot. My dad taught me when and who to shoot. He did the whole 'with great power comes great responsibility' thing." He began to check the ammo for his rifle as he walked towards the window near the corner. "Michonne taught me why it's okay. And Daryl taught me how to hide, how to camouflage myself so I'm the hunter. It's not just as easy as pointing a gun."

Ron nodded, figuring this was shy Enid had taken an interest in Carl in the first place. He was the same as her – both products of the outside. Something he knew nothing about. "That's cool," he answered genuinely. "Wish I had that."

"Well, maybe if we're ever friends again, I could help train you."

"Should we just sit anywhere?" Jessie cut in, unsure what to do with herself. She felt so uncomfortable there in Michonne's room.

"I'd say sit near the closet, just in case you need to hide quickly," he instructed. He pulled his baby sister from Michonne's bed and took a seat in the corner nearest the closet, while Jessie and her kids took the opposite one. And that would be how they would wait.

* * *

Hours passed, and the gunshots continued, with no signs of stopping, and no one coming to update them on the status at the front gates. They'd nodded in and out of sleep, read books, entertained Judith, but Carl, Jessie, Ron, and Sam were truly bored.

"Kinda thought being attacked would be more exciting," Sam commented from beside his mother.

"The alternative is being dead," Ron reminded him. "Chill, dude."

"Ron…" Jessie scolded him.

"I'm just being honest."

"You've been honest enough for one day," she yawned. "Just be quiet."

He silently obeyed, returning to his task of trying to find sleep, while Carl stared out of the window, noticing that a couple of walkers were starting to make their way down the street. There were too few to start panicking, so he purposely decided against telling Jessie and her kids, but he did have to wonder what was going on out there. He was just about to sneak into the closet and ask over the walkie-talkie, but the sound of the front door stopped him.

"Carl!" Rick's voice was followed by the slam of the front door, and his footsteps on the staircase.

"Dad!" he called out in relief. He quickly popped up from the floor and met his dad in the doorway of Michonne's room.

"Hey, everything okay?" he questioned, glancing into the room. Judith was crawling towards him, while Jessie and her boys sat near the door, looking up at him. "Hey," he greeted her.

"What's going on out there?" she wondered, standing from the floor as well. "It sounds like a massacre."

"Some group decided to try and get in here," he explained, wiping tiredly at his face. He picked Judy up from the floor and the two of them took a seat on Michonne's bed. "Call themselves 'Wolves,'" he shook his head. "Had Carol at gunpoint, trying to threaten their way in, just as Abraham and I were coming back from the quarry."

"My god. Is Carol okay?"

"She's fine," he sighed in relief. "Everyone's fine, so far. But we found out one of them had pictures of this place, from Aaron's backpack, so… We've got an idea of where they came from, but no clue how many of them there are."

"What do they want in here for?" Carl asked, taking a seat next to his dad. "They wanna live here?"

"I honestly don't know," he answered hoarsely. "I was done askin' questions two hours ago."

"Is it safe to come out now?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Well, not quite yet," he said regretfully. "I just wanted to check on you all, make sure the neighborhood was all right."

"Why wouldn't we be?" Ron frowned.

"There's now a truck-sized hole in the front wall, so a few walkers have gotten in," he admitted cautiously.

"Rick," Jessie retorted in a panic. "Are you kidding me?"

"I need you to stay calm," his expression pleaded with her. He couldn't handle having to protect someone that wasn't even in danger at the moment; not with everything else going on. "Look at me, Jessie. I'm calm, right?"

She nodded, but it was clear that she was still terrified. "We're okay?"

"You're fine," he promised. "Carl's got you."

"You're not staying?" Her scared hazel eyes were begging him to say otherwise. "You can't leave me here."

"I have to get back out there and help," he stood from the bed to meet her gaze. "You've gotten through the worst part. Just hold on a little bit longer."

She rubbed her face in frustration, resisting the urge to cry. She couldn't do that in front of Rick, not when he had so much to deal with. It was bad enough she was stuck in this room, with children, while all the adults took care of the threat. She had to pull it together. "Okay," she nodded at him, feigning confidence.

He gave his daughter and son quick forehead kisses, and moved towards the closet to grab more ammo. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he said to Carl.

Jessie didn't miss how familiar Rick was in Michonne's room, which only made her feel even more displaced. She wanted to leave more than anything. "Please hurry," she said. "And be careful out there."

He was halfway out the door as he replied, "I will."

* * *

Rick was making his way back to the wall, fighting through the few walkers that had made it inside, when he saw that Daryl was running in his direction. "What's wrong," Rick demanded, noticing the look of anguish on his friend's face.

He shook his head, letting him know that things on their side were fine. "Some of 'em got away," he said, referring to the Wolves. "Bunch of us are gonna go after 'em."

"I'll come, too," he offered, jogging to join him.

"Michonne said you need to stay," Daryl countered, finally stopping in the street. "We got more than enough folks."

"She's goin'?" he frowned.

"Her, me, Abe, Sasha, Glenn, Heath, Nick..."

"That's damn near everybody."

"She said you, Carol, Maggie, Morgan could handle things here. Just in case some of 'em come back."

"Morgan?" Rick didn't understand why she needed to go if so many others were. He took off running for the front, hoping to talk her out of it, or at least get her reasoning for it. He and Daryl reached the front gates just in time to watch Abraham park Aaron's RV against the wall, covering the breach. And Michonne was on the other side, directing the job.

She could already see the look of defiance on Rick's face as he approached her. That stupid walk of his, trying to distract her from her task. "I'm not arguing with you about this, Rick. You need to stay."

"When did we decide this?" he squinted, taking the spot beside her.

"If I recall correctly, your excuse last time was that you owed Carol," she smirked. "It's my turn this time."

"So we're takin' turns risking our lives? Is that it?"

"Well, we can't both go," she reminded him. It was an agreement they'd come to back in Georgia, and she had every intention of keeping it. "And you really should be here for the rest of the people that are probably scared to death right now."

"You don't have to go, you know," he offered. "They've got plenty of people."

She gave him a knowing glance, the two of them stepping back and out of Abraham's way.

"You're really gonna leave me here, huh?"

"You've got Carol. You'll be fine."

He nodded, smirking at the fact that he knew he was never going to be able to talk her out of it in the first place. "Hurry back, all right?" he said, squeezing her shoulder. "And be careful out there."

She smiled back at him, just as Sasha pulled up in the truck they'd be taking on their mission. "Yes, sir."

* * *

From the Monroe household, Ethan Carter and Spencer Monroe had been watching the day's events unfold, careful to stay incognito as they observed. Watching the way Rick and his people fought, noting their many strengths, trying to find their weaknesses, the cracks in their armor.

They hadn't come up with much – this was a tough group, to say the least. But… things had winded down considerably, and from what they could tell, that group had suddenly fractured. Half of them had left the property, leaving Rick Grimes alone and vulnerable. In fact, they had the luxury of watching him walk back towards him home, all by himself.

Ethan moved from the window for the first time in hours, and turned back to his partner in crime with an excited glint in his eyes. "I gotta say, I'm feeling pretty good about this, man."

Spencer looked up at him curiously, hesitantly. "You're really sure you wanna do this?"

"He's basically got no one left but the cookie lady," he laughed. It was almost comical how easy this would be with so many of his people gone. "Now is the perfect time to strike."


	5. Help

Rick stood in a corner of his kitchen, his daughter in his arms, absentmindedly watching Jessie attempt to make dinner for her family and his. It was such a strange sight, having her in there. Not Carol, not Michonne. But Jessie.

It was also funny, because he didn't think much of it when he was at her house. Even though her older son was clearly not a fan of his; even though it was the home she shared with a man he killed in cold blood, none of that entered his mind when he was next door. But having Jessie in his home felt foreign, and even jarring, to his senses. Perhaps because it was a glaring reminder that things were different; that something was wrong. Michonne was gone, and there was a hole in the wall that protected them, and they'd just been attacked for reasons he still hadn't figured out. Everything was out of place, and he didn't know what to do with it.

"So after dinner," Jessie began, turning from the sink to look at Rick, "I dunno if you're up for it, but I was thinking that we could sit down with the boys and talk about the fight they had earlier."

He stared back at her as he took a sip of water, puzzled by whatever she was referring to. "Fight?"

"Ron and Carl," she nodded, her face furrowed in concern. "I mean, with everything else that's happened today, it kind of got pushed to the wayside, but that's why we were over here in the first place."

"I had no idea," Rick shook his head in surprise. He set his glass down and started to rub softly at Judith's back. "What were they fighting about?"

"Ron said some things to Carl that he absolutely shouldn't have," she winced. "I don't know what's gotten into him, but when I told him to apologize, he just dug in."

Rick found that surprising, considering the two of them, along with Sam, were in the living room watching a movie at the moment. "Well they seem to be doin' all right now," he said, glancing their way to see if he could detect any hint of tension. "Maybe cooler heads prevailed after being stuck in a room together for so long."

"Maybe," she nodded, though it was clear she was still worried. "I just… It feels like I don't know my kid all of a sudden. Ron's always been such a sweet boy, and now he's just… I dunno."

"He just lost his father," he reminded her softly. "It was the same with Carl, after Lori…" He couldn't bring himself to say she died, for some reason. "He just went down this spiral of anger. I did too, to be honest. I think it's probably a natural reaction."

"Well Carl seems to have moved past it then," she considered. "Did you do something, or did you just let him go through it?"

"I had us both take a step back from the violent lifestyle we were living," he nodded. "I don't even know if it helped, in the end. I think he might've just needed to go through it. But… I can say that he's turning into exactly the person I hoped he would be."

"That's sweet," she grinned back at him. "He was so brave today," she added, still awed when she thought about it. "I don't think he even flinched when Michonne said she was leaving."

"He's been through much worse than what we saw today," Rick chuckled.

"God," Jessie sighed. "I can't even imagine."

There was a knock at the front door, and Rick looked down at his baby as she looked back up at him, running her little hands over his clean-shaven face. "Who could that be?" he whispered, nuzzling her fingers with his mouth. Together, they went to answer, finding Rick's self-proclaimed archenemy, Ethan Carter, standing in the doorway. Rick sighed heavily at the sight, resisting the urge to completely scowl at the visitor. "What can I do for you, Ethan?"

"I know," he said, already holding his hands up in surrender. He understood that he was the last person Rick would want to see. "I just wanna talk, if that's okay with you."

* * *

"Rick, it just feels like we don't understand one another."

Rick slowly walked past Ethan, glancing across the room to where Carol was sitting at the table with Judith, and he wondered what she was making of this whole conversation. "I think I understand you pretty well," he returned, leaning against his mantle. "You're scared. And you think I don't know what I'm doin', and it's making you act like an idiot."

"You think it's just as simple as throwing us out there into the wild and letting us fend for ourselves. Who does that?"

"I didn't  _throw_  anyone anywhere. Shit happens, sometimes it isn't good. And sometimes, if you're lucky, you learn just what you're made of."

"I haven't had to learn that in nearly two years."

"And now look at you," Rick shot back. "It's not my fault that you haven't had to survive-"

"That's exactly what I've done."

"No, you've hidden." Rick sat on the arm of his couch and crossed his arms over his chest. "I told Carol the other day," he said, gesturing back towards her, "you people have gotta be the luckiest people I've ever met. And now, you get me to teach you how to actually make it out there, and you wanna be mad at me for it? You wanna fight me? Instead of what's actually trying to kill us?"

"I don't," Ethan promised, looking up at him. "That's what I came to tell you. I don't want this... this whatever it is."

"Well, at this point, it's nothing but a bunch of rumors," Rick said. "If you don't want it to go any further, then it doesn't have to."

"Hey, Carol," Jessie called from the kitchen. "Do you have, like, a big pot I can use?"

Rick looked over to their exchange, wondering why Jessie was being so unusually loud, but he thought little of it until Carol called to him for assistance.

"We can't reach this pot," she said, standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

It was clear that she was summoning him for a reason other than a pot, so he quickly excused himself and entered the kitchen, where the two of them were looking back at him worriedly. In fact, Jessie looked so pale, he thought she was going to pass out.

"What's wrong," he whispered.

Carol guided him towards the other side of the kitchen, gesturing for him to look out of the patio door. He didn't see anything at first, but then a woman, most likely Ethan's wife, from what he could tell, went slinking past the deck, toting a rifle.

"I noticed two of them running past the house when I called Carol," Jessie whispered shakily.

While Rick went to peer out of another window, Carol went to the cabinet, making a point to pull some of their pots and pans down to make some noise. "What do you wanna do?" she questioned Rick.

Her nervously wiped his mouth, feeling his anger bubbling, and his frustration rising as he realized that Ethan wasn't there for a truce. This was an attack. And in his own home, to boot. "I wanna put him through that window," he answered arrogantly. "But before that, I need you to take Judith upstairs, and then get back down here. I'm gonna need you."

Carol frowned up at him, wondering whether he realized he was on the verge of blowing her cover in front of Jessie. "Need me? For what?"

He glanced at Jessie briefly before eyeing Carol knowingly. There was no one else there, so he didn't have time for her games. "Just get Judith," he said, pulling out his Python to check its bullets.

"What do you want me to do?" Jessie asked.

"I dunno." All he could truly think about was how he wished Michonne were there. That Daryl and Glenn weren't gone. "But stay in here until I figure it out."

Without hesitation, Rick stalked into the living room, his right hand balled into a fist as he made his way directly towards Ethan, and punched him square in the jaw. He went flying off the edge of the couch and onto the floor as Rick whipped his gun right into the man's face.

He stared up at his assailant with widened, scared eyes. "Rick, what the hell."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Rick answered, ignoring his fake outrage. "You think you're gonna ambush me in my home? Where my children sleep? And then pretend you're innocent?"

Ethan tried to back away from Rick's rage, but the gun followed him until he bumped into the wall of the staircase. "Listen, I don't know what you think-"

"I think that you were stupid enough to believe you could get away with this."

"Rick, nothing has happened. Nothing is happening."

Rick nodded, but the preposterousness of the idea was running through his brain, and he was getting angrier by the second. "How deluded do you have to be to believe that you can beat us?" he scowled, his gun still cocked. "That you, and whatever dickheads you managed to talk into this, are gonna walk into my house and attack my family? You really think you're gonna take this community from us?" he demanded in a low growl. "From Daryl? From Michonne? From Glenn?" He shook his head in disbelief. "From me?" he shouted. "Do you have any fucking idea who you're talking to?"

"Please just think about this before you do anything rash," Ethan said, his voice trembling as he sat up against the wall. "I have four people out there," he admitted, "armed to the teeth. Everyone you just named is gone."

Rick couldn't help but chuckle, as it was clear that Ethan really didn't have any idea of who he was talking to. "I could kill the five of you with my eyes closed," he retorted seriously. "I've killed more formidable men with my teeth."

There was a knock at the door, and Rick glanced up only for a second, to see if he could get a view of who it was. But the barrel of his gun stayed aimed at Ethan's forehead as he called for backup. "Carol," he yelled upstairs.

Also having heard the knock, Jessie scurried into the living room as she pulled the handgun Carl had given her from her back pocket. "I got it," she said, looking like a nervous poodle as she headed for the door.

"Jessie," he tried to stop her. "Let Carol do it."

"It's Morgan," she informed him as calmly as she could. "I saw him pass by the kitchen window."

He nodded for her to go ahead, as Carol and Carl came down the steps, ready to help. Jessie had been right – Morgan was standing at the door, with two of Ethan's happy helpers at gunpoint.

"There are two more out there," Morgan announced, pushing one of them inside. "I couldn't get to 'em, but I did make sure they didn't see me."

"Where," Carol demanded.

"Both on the left." He and the remaining hostage, Ethan's wife Susan, carefully stepped into Rick's home as well.

"Carl," Rick said, gesturing for his son to take one of the attackers into his custody.

Carl quickly pulled out his gun on the neighbor he knew only as Bryan, and directed him to the floor beside his friend. "On your knees," he commanded, doing his best impression of his father.

Jessie drew her gun and mimicked Carl's actions with the woman Morgan had pulled in. "Susan," she ordered, nodding towards an empty spot along the wall.

"We'll go get the other two," Carol told Rick confidently, already headed back out of the door with Morgan.

"Rick," Ethan called out to him coolly. "What are you doing?"

"You started this," Rick reminded him, his brow quirked cockily as he glanced at his son. "He moves, you shoot him," he instructed.

Carl nodded, and Jessie looked over at them both, just as Ron came down the stairs to see what the commotion was all about. His eyes widened at the sight of his mother standing alongside Rick and Carl Grimes, holding their neighbors at gunpoint.

"Mom!"

"Go back upstairs," she shot back worriedly. "Now."

"What the hell are you doing," he fumed.

"I'm helping."

"You're gonna get yourself killed."

"Nothing is gonna happen to her," Rick promised him. "But you should go."

Ron rolled his eyes and offered a frustrated exhale in response. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't take the word of the man that murdered my father."

"Ron," Jessie pleaded with him. "Now is not the time."

Just then, Morgan and Carol returned with Spencer and Josh, respectively, with guns pointed at the backs of their heads, too. Ron looked on in horror at the madness unfolding in front of him. "Jesus."

"Get upstairs," Jessie yelled. "Now!"

He turned around with a big sigh, stomping up the steps to join his brother and Rick's daughter in the attic.

Back on the main level, Rick took in the situation in front of him - five hostages, lined up against his staircase, and four of his friends, his family at his side, willing to help him through it. The only problem was, he had no idea what to do with them. Outside those walls, killing them would've been the automatic answer, and he would've kept it moving. But he wasn't outside anymore, as so many people had been reminding him over the prior few weeks. And these people were his neighbors. People he had come to know. People he had promised to protect. He was staring back at Deanna's son, for god's sake. And despite whatever issues he had with her as a leader, taking her only remaining family would've been cruel, to say the least.

"Rick, what are we doing," Carol questioned when she saw that he wasn't doing  _anything_. "We can't execute them on our own home."

"Execute?" Spencer looked up, worried, his eyes watering with tears at just the thought.

Rick looked over to Morgan, who still had his gun up, and he had to wonder what was going through his mind at that moment. This man had been so staunchly against the idea of taking lives, even in self-defense, but there he was, standing by his side. "What do I do?" Rick decided to ask him.

Morgan glanced at Rick, and then looked down at their five hostages, deciding to home in on Spencer, given how terrified he clearly was. He stooped down in front of him, looking him square in the eye to ask, "What was your plan here? What were you gonna do to Rick?"

Spencer shook his head adamantly. "Nothing violent," he promised. "We were just gonna force them to leave."

"Force us to leave at gunpoint," Carol noted.

"And we would've killed you if you hadn't," Ethan cut in, looking up at Rick provocatively. "You fight, or you die, right?"

With a sigh, Morgan stood back up to face his friend. He knew how hard it must have been for Rick to do it, but appreciated that he had even attempted a nuanced approach to the situation. "He's testing you," he whispered to Rick, referring to Ethan. "I wouldn't blame you if you kicked him out. And if we're being honest, that's probably a death sentence anyway." He moved in closer to Rick, his voice softening even more as he turned around to say, "But I'd keep an eye on him, if I were you. You never know how loyalty is born."

Rick understood what Morgan was trying to tell him, but that was practically a superhuman feat for someone like him. He'd learned his lesson about letting things go a long time ago. It was how he ended up losing Lori, and even the prison. It was how he ended up in Alexandria in the first place. "I can't let them just stay…"

"You can, Rick. Even if it means putting them all in one house and keeping it guarded," he offered. "We can find a way."

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, immediately thinking back to when Michonne said those words to him. How much of a relief it was to hear them and know that even after everything he'd done, she was still willing to work with him. He wondered if that was what she would say now. He wished he knew for sure, but he did know that she didn't want a war. So he could guess that she would prefer him to salvage what they could of this situation, and if that meant letting them stay, if it meant keeping an eye on them, then he could give it a try. He opened his eyes and gave Morgan an accepting nod. "Okay."

* * *

Hours later, after what had to be his longest day on record in quite some time, Rick tiredly walked back into his home, surprised to see Jessie sitting on his staircase, fast asleep. He could guess that she was probably waiting on him to return, but it seemed like an especially uncomfortable position to do so in.

"Jessie," he called out softly as he locked the front doors.

She slowly began to stir, yawning in response to his return. "Hey."

He could feel his body resisting just the thought of trying to make it upstairs at that moment, so he took the spot just next to her on the staircase. "Why are you sitting here?" he whispered.

"I didn't actually mean to fall asleep here," she yawned again. "The boys were on the couches, and I thought I would sit here and read while I waited for you. But that didn't work out so well."

He nodded with a light chuckle. "The plans we make..."

She smiled back, leaning against the railing so that she could get a good look at him. He looked so tired. So beaten down with all those bandages covering his face. His hair was a mess. She wished so badly that she could fix the world for him, just so that he could get some rest. And after the events of the evening, she felt as though maybe she was getting there. Holding a gun to someone's head would probably be classified as baby steps, but they were steps in the right direction. She wanted to be someone he could rely on, and for a moment in time, she finally was.

"Hey, thanks for trusting me tonight," she told him, sitting up straight now. She looked him in the eye, her warm gaze softening his hard one. "It's the first time in a long time that I've felt useful."

He nodded back, and sighed, resting his elbows against the steps behind him. He took notice when she mimicked his position, and suddenly, they were sitting closer than they had been. "You've tricked yourself into thinkin' you're not strong," he said, trying to keep his voice low. "I don't know if that's just a symptom of being in here, or being with Pete, but... you're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Jessie. You're a fighter."

"But compared to someone like you and your people..."

"You've got a long way to go," he smiled. "But we've been out there a lot longer than you have."

"Yeah, no kidding. I remember looking at Carol and thinking, 'Well, if they let her stick around, I could do okay with them.' But of course, it turns out she's freaking Rambo, so there went that pipe dream."

"Yeah..." he laughed lightly, thinking about how far Carol had come from the meek woman that he met in Atlanta. And even then, she managed to surprise him repeatedly. "You know, Carol started not far from where you are now. I think that's how she was able to revert back to it so easily when she got here. She had no idea how strong she was, until she had to be."

Jessie looked over to him in disbelief. Knowing that Carol had perpetrated a disguise for weeks now, it would be hard to believe anything they had to say about her. "Seriously?"

He nodded back. "Don't count yourself out. You did exactly what you needed to do without missing a beat today."

It was her turn to sigh now, as she stared at the ring adorning her left hand. Such a strange feeling to know that it meant nothing anymore. That she was essentially on her own with her kids. "I just don't wanna be anyone's burden, Rick."

"That's what Carol used to say," he smirked. "But we all need taking care of sometimes. Don't think too much about it."

She appreciated that he lived up to the hype. That the more time she spent with Rick, the clearer it became why all those people he called family stayed by his side. He took care of them. And he had offered to take care of her. Even after everything with Pete, he hadn't run away. "It was nice, though. Being your partner in crime for a few hours," she grinned. "I felt like a real badass."

He smiled back at her, glad that she had gotten a boost of confidence from it. "Good."

"Hey, you haven't… really… killed someone with your teeth, have you?" she wondered, somewhat cautiously as she looked over to him. "You were just trying to scare Ethan?"

He stayed silent for a moment, pondering how he wanted to answer that question. It wasn't something he'd ever been proud of, even if he wasn't sorry for it, but it only struck him then how terrifying that sounded to someone who'd seen nothing. "Would it bother you if I had?" he decided to ask.

She shook her head. "No. It just sounds… insane," she chuckled.

"Carl was in danger," he said softly. That was the simplest, most honest way to explain it. "I would do  _anything_  to protect my children."

She nodded, somewhat awed, somewhat scared by the thought. But she could understand it, and in the end, it just made her like him more. When he said he could take care of her, it clearly wasn't an empty promise. "I think I'm-."

"I'm so tired," he yawned, not realizing he'd cut off her sentence. He leaned over, wiping at his watering eyes and sniffling nose.

"You've been fighting literally all day," she said, rubbing softly at his back. "It's a wonder you're still speaking in coherent sentences."

She was right about that, he thought. But between fighting the Wolves and Ethan, and so many of his people being gone, he imagined his paranoia wouldn't allow him to get much sleep. "You're welcome to stay," he offered, given the fact that her kids were already knocked out in the living room. "You can take one of the empty beds upstairs. Or I can just keep an eye on the boys tonight. Whatever you'd prefer."

She smiled brightly at the suggestion, instantly feeling like a part of the family now. "I'd like to stay, if that's all right with you. And Carol."

"I'm sure she won't mind," he said, slowly pulling himself up from the steps. Not wanting to wake anyone, he pulled off his boots and quietly led Jessie up the stairs, towards the room that he, Carl, and Judith shared. "You can take my bed," he whispered, pointing towards the twin bed with the green comforter. He carefully removed his sleeping daughter from her crib and then headed towards the door. "Bathroom is right across the hall," he instructed. "If you need anything, I'll be just next door, in Michonne's room."

She looked up at him, a bit confused, mostly disappointed. "You're leaving?"

"I think that's for the best," he said, resting his hand on the doorknob. "Give you some privacy…"

"Rick, I don't wanna kick you out of your room."

"It's nothin'," he insisted. "Her room has a better view of the front gates, anyway."

Jessie nodded, smiling through her disappointment, and affectionately ran her hand down his arm in a bid goodnight. "All right. Well... I guess I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Jessie," he nodded back before tiptoeing out of the room.

Rick disappeared into Michonne's room, feeling at ease for practically the first time all day. It was probably just his imagination, but he swore he could feel her presence there. Just the aura of her room was calming. And it was so clean in there. The only thing out of place was some of their laundry sitting on top of her dresser. It was nothing like the cluttered mess that his room tended to be, living with two kids.

He ran an exhausted hand over his face and moved towards the bed, placing Judith right in the middle of it. He positioned a pillow on either side of her, then covered her with her favorite blanket before taking a seat at the edge of the mattress. He leaned over with a yawn, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm so tired," he whispered to no one in particular. Judith, perhaps?

Rick wished Michonne were there to bear some of this weight with him. Or Daryl, of course, even though he'd already been gone for most of their time at Alexandria. But he missed Michonne. Carol and Maggie were doing their parts, so he couldn't truly complain, but there was something in the way Michonne made him feel as though things were okay. It was an odd feeling to have her gone. He wasn't used to it. They hadn't been apart since the prison fell, and now she was god knows where, fighting god knows who. The Wolves. He scoffed at the thought. He could not wait until this whole mess was over.

* * *

"Hey," Carol pulled the back door open, greeting Rick tentatively. She had noticed Jessie's boys had spent the night, and that Jessie wasn't with them, which likely meant that she had been with Rick. It was a subject she still wasn't sure how to broach.

He looked up from feeding his daughter, squinting past the sun to view his housemate. "Good morning."

"What happened here last night?" she wondered.

Rick looked up at her again, confused by the suggestion that anything happened that she didn't know about. "How's that?"

"Where's Jessie?"

"Probably still asleep, I guess," he shrugged. "Judith woke up about an hour ago, decided to come on down and try and get some breakfast without disturbing the boys."

Carol eyed him carefully, still unsure exactly what was going on, still unsure whether she wanted to find out.

"What time'd you get in last night?" he asked, sending another spoonful of applesauce Judith's way as she grabbed at his hands.

"I don't even know," she sighed, sitting down across from them. "Sometime between two and three?"

"I slept for about an hour, purely by accident."

"By accident?"

"I was sitting in Michonne's room, called myself keeping watch. But I eventually just dozed off."

"Maggie looked about half awake when she took over for me," she smirked. "I'm pretty sure she fell asleep out there."

"Some team we are," he chuckled.

"Well," she sighed, standing from her seat, "if we've got guests, I guess I should figure out something to make for breakfast."

"If you really want to," he shrugged. "Seems like they'd be all right with cereal."

"I think we can do a little better than that," she frowned at his offhandedness. "What does Jessie usually eat?"

"How the hell would I know?"

"You're the one spending all this time at her house," she shrugged innocently. "It seemed like something you would know."

Rick opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There was this implication hanging in the air, and not just from Carol, that he was doing something more than just trying to be nice to Jessie. That he was courting this recently-widowed woman. And he wanted to defend himself, but the words seemed empty at that point. Perhaps because he'd said them so many times. "I'm just doing my best to make sure she's all right," he said flatly. "I don't go over there for coffee and to chat about life."

"Hmm," she said.

"'Hmm' what?" he pressed. "Why are you always so cryptic when you talk about Jessie?"

"Because you are," she shot back. "And I know it's not my business," Carol added, her voice softer now. "But you seemed to be headed down this one road, and then I turn around, and you're laughing and smiling with this one, and now, you're acting like people are crazy for thinking there's an attraction there."

"There's a difference between an attraction and actively pursuing a woman that lost her husband less than a week ago."

"But pursuing her while he was alive was okay…"

"Carol…" He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated by the conversation. Somehow, it sounded much more accusatory coming from her than it did Michonne. And he didn't even like it then. "I did what I did, and I can't take it back. I get it. But whatever happens with me and Jessie, it's not gonna be tomorrow."

"All right, well I hope she knows that."

His eyebrow furrowed in response, and he was trying to think of words to go with that, but as per usual these days, the walkie-talkie interrupted their conversation.

" _Open the gates!_ " they both heard, and it sounded like Abraham's voice.

"They're back," Rick immediately stood from his seat.

Carol caught the alarm in Abraham's voice, and she offered to take Judith so Rick could go investigate. "Give her to me," she said, her own brow line straight in concentration. "Go see what's going on."

" _Rick and Maggie, y'all might wanna get to the front if you ain't up there already,_ " Daryl said over the radio.

That was all he needed to hear. "Tell Carl where I went," he asked, hastily handing over Judith and her half full bowl of applesauce. "I'll let you know what I find out."

Carol nodded, frowning in concern as she watched him step down from the porch and make a run towards the gates. And with a soft exhale, she and Judith headed back inside, where Jessie and Sam were standing outside the bathroom door. "Hey," she greeted them distractedly.

"Good morning," Jessie smiled back at her and Rick's daughter. "Already on baby duty, huh?"

"Rick had to go," she decided to say, figuring she'd be asking about him soon anyway.

"Did something happen?"

Carol didn't stop shuffling around, dragging Judith's highchair into the kitchen before answering, "I'm not sure."

* * *

When Rick got to the gates, he was met by Maggie, having run down from the guard tower, and Daryl, Abraham, and Sasha, in a different truck than the one they'd left in. No Michonne. No Glenn. No Heath. No Nicholas.

"The rest of 'em behind you?" he asked as calmly as he could, but inside, he could feel his heart beating out of his chest. The look of anger and disappointment on Abraham's face was doing very little to keep him at bay. When it took too long for someone to answer, he looked to Daryl. "Where is she?"

"Ain't no reason to worry," he offered, his voice quiet and unconfident.

"Where's Glenn," Maggie demanded, realizing that there was definitely something wrong now.

"He's all right," Abraham promised her. "We just got separated, and there was no way to get to them."

"So…" Rick had to take a few steps back, because he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So you left them?"

"Rick," Sasha said, her voice deliberately cool and calm, "we had no choice. We got into town and things got crazy. Walkers were everywhere."

"And you left her."

"Listen," she said, daring to move closer to him. "We have no reason to believe they're not okay. It looked like they were able to get into a building safely. But… we lost contact, we lost our vehicle, and we had to get the hell out of there."

"The place was surrounded," Abe nodded disappointedly. "You know I wouldn't leave them if I had a choice."

Rick did know that. He knew that about Daryl too, but that didn't stop him from wanting to throw up. The idea of Michonne and Glenn stranded in the middle of nowhere literally made him sick. But he cupped his face with his hands, trying to remain calm, and he nodded, accepting Sasha's optimistic outlook. He had nothing else at the moment, and he was going to hold onto it for dear life. "All right. Then we need to go."

"We need a vehicle," Abraham said.

"If they're in a building, if we take the RV, maybe they can get to the roof and jump down on top of it."

"The RV is the only thing holding the wall together," Sasha said, unsure of how that could possibly work.

"Well y'all are the ones that lost the truck, so I'm open to suggestions," Rick shot back tersely. "But we've gotta go."

"We ain't got time to waste," Daryl agreed.

"If they are safe, like you said, we can take a few minutes to figure this out," Maggie offered. "We can't just move the RV when there's a giant hole in the wall."

"Maggie," Daryl said, discreetly trying to catch her eye. "We ain't got time to waste."

"Why," Rick wondered, walking up on his friend now. "What's wrong?"

Sasha, Abraham, and Daryl all looked back and forth amongst one another, none of them wanting to pour the salt on this giant, gaping wound they'd brought home with them. But Rick would find out sooner or later, and he wouldn't take kindly to them keeping it from him.

"We think Michonne might be injured," Sasha revealed. "We aren't  _sure_ ," she made sure to add. "But she was fighting one of those Wolves guys, there was a gunshot, some struggling. We were just too far away to tell what really happened, and just so much going on. But… immediately after that, it looked like Glenn and Heath were carrying her into one of the buildings."

"And you didn't fuckin' lead with that?" Rick shouted.

"We needed you not to panic," Abraham offered, still much too calm for Rick's liking.

"Well good job. Now I'm panicked and I'm pissed," he said, fumbling to pull the RV keys from his belt clip. "I'm not arguing about this," he submitted. "You two run outside and get the car," he pointed to Abraham and Sasha. "Maggie, are you stayin' or comin'?"

"I can stay," she said, seeing the terror on Rick's face. If Glenn was okay, she didn't need to be there for the rescue mission. "Just bring him back."

"I will," he promised, already leading Daryl to the RV. "You see anything that even looks like a threat, you get Carl and Judith and keep 'em in the guard tower with you."

"I will," she sent back, already pulling out her radio to let Carol know what was going on.

"Rick, this isn't a good idea," Abraham warned him, both of them walking towards the gates. "You move that RV, walkers get in here no problem."

He knew that, and had already done the calculation in his mind. Things were fairly clear at the moment, and his family was in immediate danger somewhere else. It wasn't even a question for him. He passed Abraham and hopped into the driver's seat of his rescue vehicle. "I guess we'd better hurry up then."


	6. Hurt

**Chapter 6: Hurt**

The second the group arrived to their destination, somewhere in the middle of Fairfax, VA, Rick could tell that Michonne had, in fact, been hurt. Walkers were everywhere, just as Sasha warned him, and Heath was on the roof of some random building, waiting all by himself. Rick knew that meant Glenn was probably tending to Michonne. He climbed out of the top of the RV, greeting Heath with a worried frown.

"She wasn't bit, was she?" he asked calmly, but felt the backs of his eyes stinging with tears. He tried not to think about it too much on the way there, but now, recognizing that that could be the reality, scared him half to death.

"Stabbed," Heath called back, watching as Daryl and Abraham came to join him. "She's got a big gash, lost a lot of blood."

"Where is she?"

"Glenn's got her on the staircase inside," he nodded. "Last time I checked, the bleeding slowed, but it hadn't stopped. She needs a doctor."

"We're fresh outta those," Abraham said, taking a glance around the place. It seemed as though more walkers had shown up since they left, which baffled him. Where were they coming from? "But if we can get her back to Rosita, she can probably patch her up."

Rick looked around frantically, trying to figure out how he was going to get her out of that building with a steady stream of walkers surrounding it. There was no way she'd be able to jump from the roof, not even a few feet.

"What you wanna do?" Daryl called out to Rick. "She needs to get back."

Rick glared at him for stating the obvious, as if that weren't the only thing on his mind at that moment. "I'll come get her," he called up to Heath.

"So… four of us will be stuck in here instead of three?" he frowned.

"Well what? You gonna jump down here with her?"

Heath looked down at the roof of the RV, gauging how far a leap it was. He wasn't even sure he could do it himself, much less carrying someone else that was injured. But he couldn't imagine how Rick would be able to do it either. "I could try," he offered.

"Just be ready to go once I get in there," Rick instructed. He pulled out his walkie-talkie as he looked over to where Sasha was parked, at the entrance to the small storefront. "I need you to turn on some music," he said to her firmly. "Make some noise. I need enough space to run into this building."

" _Copy that_ ," she answered, already cranking up her vehicle.

"You go on inside, let Glenn know we're here, and I'm coming," Rick instructed Heath. "Make _sure_ you have her sword," he added. He was already climbing back inside the RV before anyone could respond to his plan.

Daryl followed after him, wanting to make sure his friend was in the right frame of mind to do this. The entire way to Fairfax, he looked sick. Quite literally, as though he was going to hurl at any given moment. And once they gave him the news that Nicholas had died, Rick seemed nearly catatonic. He was hardly speaking in complete sentences, just grumbles here and there. He was a mess, and Daryl's watchful glare said that he could tell.

"I'm all right," Rick announced gruffly, having noticed that very stare.

Daryl nodded, but he didn't know whether he believed it. "You sure about that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. But somethin' in you seemed to fall apart when we came back without Michonne. Somethin' I ain't seen since Lori passed..."

Rick swallowed hard as he cut his eyes in the direction of Daryl and his words. Michonne wasn't Lori, and she wasn't dead, so he was baffled, even annoyed, by the inference. "I don't know what you're talkin' about," he maintained.

"All right."

"Glenn and Michonne are two of the most important people in my life," he added. "You come back without 'em, you tell me one of them's injured, it's not gonna sit well with me, no matter how you slice it."

"All right," Daryl repeated more forcefully. "Figured it couldn't hurt to ask."

"You and Carol like to imply a lot without actually sayin' anything."

Daryl frowned at him now, wondering why this was turning into an argument all of a sudden. Rick only seemed to be proving that this meant more to him than he was willing to admit, but Daryl had no intentions of fighting him about it. His friend was obviously under a lot of stress, so he let it go. "Do what you gotta do then," he offered, grabbing his crossbow.

* * *

The minute Rick laid eyes on Michonne, he could tell she was not all right. She was at the foot of the staircase to the roof, propped up on her left elbow, with her right leg outstretched. Even before he got close, he noticed that her typically radiant skin was dull. Pale. She was holding tightly to Glenn, and even he didn't seem to be enough. She was on her last leg.

Glenn looked up at Rick apologetically as he approached, wishing he wouldn't have had to see all the blood. But there was no avoiding it. He'd used his shirt to try and control the bleeding, but it had seeped through and pooled on the floor beneath her. Rick felt his stomach turn, knowing how badly she must have been hurt.

When she caught his eye, she offered a small smile full of relief and remorse. "Hey."

"I specifically told you to be careful," he scolded her, ignoring her greeting. As Glenn and Heath moved out of the way, he squatted down in front of her, examining her face. And he tried to smile back, but his emotions wouldn't let him, so it was more of a grimace than anything. "What happened?"

"I don't even know," she answered weakly. Her voice had nothing left in it, her body running on empty. "I went after one of those Wolves, trying to outmaneuver the walkers at the same time, and he popped out of a corner. Took me by surprise." She shook her head and wiped the sweat from her nose. "I'm lucky it was just my thigh, because he went straight for my chest."

Rick's jaw clenched as he looked up the empty staircase and then back at her. "You get him?"

"I did," she promised with a small nod.

He untied Glenn's bloody shirt from around her leg to get a better look at the gash. It looked deep, but it was a clean cut, at least. It worried him that she was still bleeding after so long, and wondered if an artery had somehow been severed. He nodded to himself, quickly re-tied her makeshift bandage, and he gripped her arm. "I got you, all right?"

Michonne's eyes narrowed on him, seeing the obvious panic overtaking his face, and she rested her hand on his knee. "I know," she assured him. When he nodded again, she used all the energy she could muster to lock her arms around his neck, and he carefully pulled her up from the floor, both of them grunting as he used all his strength to hoist her over his shoulder.

He pulled his machete from his utility holster, and he gestured for Glenn and Heath to head towards the front. "Sasha got as many as she could away from the door," he explained, referring to the walker pileup, "but it is not clear."

"We'll go first and clear a path," Glenn offered, looking back at his friend worriedly. "Just… don't drop her."

"Just hurry up," Rick retorted, tightening his grip on her. "I'm thirty seconds behind you."

Glenn took a deep breath, and gave Rick one last glance before he and Heath ran out to the mounting horde outside the doors. And Rick watched as they sliced and diced through a group of walkers, while Sasha shot at them from across the street. He was feeling good about their chances. "How you doin' back there?" he called out to Michonne.

"I'm here," was all she could say. What little blood she had left was rushing to her head.

He could hear the faintness in her voice, and it scared him. "Just make it to the RV, all right? We're right around the corner."

"I'm here," she repeated. "You got me."

"I got you." With a deep exhale and his machete already drawn, Rick made his great escape into the melee, still holding to Michonne for dear life. Thanks to Heath and Glenn, he was able to skulk past most of the walkers that had gathered at the storefront. But they hadn't gotten an opportunity to clear a path, so once he turned the corner towards the RV, it was a different story. Walkers were everywhere, and Abraham and Daryl were trying their best to get them all.

Rick angrily began to make his own way, his hand moving faster than his brain with that weapon of his. He went into Michonne mode, taking down two and three walkers at a time, until he could see the door of their RV. "We're almost there," he promised her, slicing another corpse's head off.

Daryl used his best archery skills to take out the last two walkers in Rick's path, and let him know that they could handle the rest. "We got this," he nodded. "You get her outta here."

He gave him a grateful nod as he slipped into the RV, rushing Michonne to the back, where he was finally able to set her down on the bed and give her body some relief. She was running warm, but her hands were cold, he noticed, as she loosely held his arm. "Stay with me, all right?"

"I'm with you," she promised, though her eyes were slowly closing on him.

"Hey," he called out to her, squeezing her hand. He didn't have a ton of medical knowledge, but he knew that keeping an injured patient awake was always a priority. "Eyes open."

She opened her eyes and smiled weakly at him, rubbing her thumb along his hand. "Believe it or not, I've been in worse shape than this. I'm okay."

"Is it worse than when we met, and you passed out in the prison yard?"

"It's about the same," she admitted. She inhaled quietly and exhaled with a soft moan. "This hurts more though," she added.

He remembered that day so well. He was losing his mind, and she just appeared at the prison gates, inexplicably standing in a small crowd of walkers, holding baby formula. He thought he was seeing a mirage until she started swinging that sword around. He knew then that she had some serious fight in her, but had run out of gas at that point. And there they were, nearly a year later, in the exact same position. "I promise I won't make it worse this time."

"Mmm." She tried to chuckle, but it just came out as a light groan as her eyes fell closed again. "Which reminds me, you're not supposed to be touching me."

"I think we broke that rule about six months ago," he smiled at her.

"That sounds misleadingly suggestive," she grinned back when she heard the smile in his voice.

"All I'm saying is, horse wrangling turned out to be a two-person job, did it not?"

"It did," she had to agree. She always thought of that day fondly, recalling how excited Rick was to find a stray horse roaming around, in relatively good health. And indeed, trying to get it back to the prison was no easy feat. They ended up injuring one another, unintentionally, more than once.

"When you knocked me in the head, I had a bruise for two weeks, you know."

"I did know that," she smiled again. "Carl told me he was concerned."

"Of course he was," he chuckled, turning back towards the front as the rest of their group piled into the vehicle. "We're good to go?" he questioned hopefully.

"Yes, sir," Abraham called back, already revving up the engine. "We'll have you back home in no time," he promised Michonne.

"Just go easy on the potholes," she requested, already wincing at the thought.

"I can make it fast, or I can make it gentle, but I can't do both."

"Make it fast," Rick answered for her. They couldn't afford to take any more chances.

* * *

"Hey," Rick anxiously called out to Michonne. "Don't give up on me now." He noticed that her conversation had slowed considerably, and they were nearly back at Alexandria now. "You're in the home stretch."

"I feel like you said that twenty minutes ago."

"Well that's because I was trying to keep you awake then."

"And what are you doing now?"

"Well... that," he admitted, glancing up and out of the window. "But we really are almost home this time."

"You're such a liar," she chuckled faintly, though it quickly turned to a grimace.

"Is it getting worse?"

She shook her head, but the look on her face said otherwise. "Bumpy ride..."

He nodded understandingly, but he stood by his choice to make it quick. "You want some more water?"

She shook her head, unsure whether she had the energy to even swallow it at the moment. She squeezed his hand instead, appreciating that he hadn't let it go in the entire time they'd been riding. "What were we talking about?"

"You were telling me about your mom," he recalled. He rested his chin on her bed, and gazed up at her. "And you told me how she taught you and your sister to read when you were both Judith's age. And I said I didn't believe you."

"Right," she smirked back at him. "As I was saying, you don't know Gayle. She could teach a dog how to read if she put her mind to it."

Rick smiled in amusement, still unsure whether he believed her. But given what he knew about Michonne, it was certainly plausible. "Apple doesn't fall far, huh?"

"I wish," she countered, shaking her head. "I always tried to be like her, but… god knows I was Michael Calvet, through and through."

"Is that your last name?" he wondered. He watched as her eyes slowly closed again, and he pulled up from his position to run his hand along her forehead. "Hey," he whispered.

They fluttered open once more, and her big, beautiful brown eyes bored into him for a moment, feeling lost in his concerned stare. "What?"

"I asked if that was your last name? Calvet."

She nodded against her pillow and swallowed hard, realizing that she was once again pulling back the curtain she'd cloaked herself in for so long. It never really crossed her mind that he didn't know her last name, but it was odd to think about now. That once upon a time, she was so cautious about revealing too much; letting anyone get too close. Now, she wanted him to know her. She wanted to be as close as she thought they were. "I can't believe I never told you that."

"I can't believe I never asked."

"Never needed to know," she understood. "I don't even know why you go around telling everyone your last name."

"Force of habit," he shrugged bashfully. "I was a cop, after all."

"That makes sense," she nodded again, half smiling. " _'My name is Rick Grimes.'_ " She did her best imitation of him introducing himself, adding an exaggerated southern twang for maximum effect. "You're like a cowboy."

He chuckled heartily at her, mostly glad that she was lucid enough to make jokes at his expense. But he also just found her very funny. "At least I tell people my name when they ask," he joked back.

"That's a low blow, Rick Grimes. Here I am, on my deathbed, and you're making fun of me?"

"You're not on your deathbed," he said seriously. "Don't even joke about that."

Michonne stared back at him warmly, but she couldn't pretend she wasn't amused by how concerned he was. She was moved by it, really, so unused to having him care so much. "Look at you, all worried about me."

"I am worried about you."

"I should've stayed home with you."

"I told-."

" _Don't_ say 'I told you so,'" she cut him off. She readjusted the blanket covering her body and took the opportunity to let her eyes rest a little more.

"The one time I'm right, you're not gonna let me gloat?"

"No," she smirked. "For all the times you were wrong."

He exhaled softly, taking another glance out of the window. He could see that they were passing the guard tower right out side the gates, and he took another deep breath of relief. "You made it, by the way."

"I made it?"

"We're home."

"Oh." She made an attempt at sitting up to get a look at her surroundings, but it was just too much for her body to bear. "Wake me when we get there, okay?"

Rick stared back at her, confused by her request, given that they _were_ there. "What?" When she didn't respond, he began to lightly pat her cheeks and squeeze her hand. "Michonne." He checked her pulse, finding it was weak, but definitely still there, then checked her wound, which had finally stopped bleeding. "Shit," he whispered to himself.

They pulled into the gates, where things were still relatively calm, aside from a few stray walkers that Carol and Morgan were out handling. But there could've been a herd, and Rick still would've rushed Michonne out of that RV. He wasted no time pulling her into his arms, and carrying her to the infirmary, where Rosita would be waiting for them. He hurried past neighbors, and friends, all of them looking on, wondering what could have happened to their second in command. Carol and Daryl followed closely behind him, while the others tended to getting the gates sealed back up.

Rosita met the small group at the door, shocked to find Rick toting an incapacitated Michonne, both of them covered in blood. "What the hell happened?" she asked, trying not to look horrified.

"She got stabbed," he said, already placing her on the bed across from Tara. "It looks deep. Bled nearly all the way here."

"Jesus," she breathed, nodding at the information. "How long has she been unconscious?"

"Just went out," he answered shakily. "I tried to keep her talking, keep her leg elevated… Didn't know what else to do."

"Okay," she nodded again, seemingly just as nervous as Rick. "She probably needs blood."

"We have blood?"

"A _very_ small supply," she confirmed, gesturing towards a mini-fridge on a counter across from them. "Just one more pint of O-neg, which is the only thing that can be given to anyone. Unless you know what hers is?"

"I don't." He looked down at her worriedly, wishing he'd thought to ask her blood type while they spoke about nonsense for nearly an hour.

"Are you O negative, by any chance?" she hoped.

He shook his head regretfully. "I'm not."

"Well," she sighed, walking towards the supply counter, "let's hope no one else needs blood anytime soon."

* * *

Michonne slowly opened her eyes to the strange sight of the infirmary, and the even more surprising sight of Rick sitting at her side, his head bowed. He looked so sad, sitting there staring at the floor, maybe lost in thought; and she wondered what those thoughts were. Was he worried? Worried about her? Angry? Tired? There were times when she thought she could read his mind, but her superpower was failing her now.

_I don't know you, but I want you all the more for that_

"You look sad," she decided to say, not sure how else to put it.

Rick looked up at her, surprised and relieved to see that she had awaken from her four-hour bout of unconsciousness. He'd been sitting there the entire time, waiting desperately to hear her voice, and there it was. "I'm just tired," he answered with a yawn to match. "It's good to see you awake, though."

"You could've gone home, you know."

"And just leave you here?" He shook his head at the thought, leaning over in his chair to get a closer look at her. She had improved drastically already. The color had come back into her face and lips, and her eyes opened fully now. "Rosita patched you up, by the way. Carl and Judith came by for a bit, I sent them home."

Michonne tried to contain her smile at his obviously intentional choice of words, but failed, as she slowly moved to sit up in her bed. "How the tables have turned."

"It happens," he agreed with a small shrug.

"You really do look terrible, though," she said, gazing at his tired face. He looked like he'd been through hell. His eyes were bloodshot, his typically curly hair was stringy and mussed, his handsome face haggard. "When's the last time you slept?"

"I got about an hour last night."

"You missed me that much, huh?" she grinned teasingly.

Rick nodded back at her with a rueful smile. "Somethin' like that."

_Words fall through me and always fool me  
And I can't react_

She let out a big sigh, looking around the large room, resembling that of a hospital. Such an odd feeling for her, being helpless all of a sudden. "I don't have to stay here, do I?" she frowned.

"Rosita thought I should let you wake up before taking you home."

She nodded.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, taking hold of her hand, noticing they were also warmer than before.

"I actually feel okay," she said, surprised by the news herself. "My leg hurts. My head hurts. But... nothing like what it was out there on that roof."

"Good," he nodded, feeling her forehead now. Normal. "You got a brand new pint of blood and whatever the hell goes in an IV bag."

"We have those?"

"Apparently," he chuckled. "Turns out Pete wasn't completely awful, after all."

"Imagine that." Michonne carefully pushed the bed sheets from her body, finding a large square hole in her favorite pants, where her injury had been bandaged. She looked over to Rick inquisitively.

"I told her you wouldn't like it," he declared, already defensive. "But there was a hole in 'em anyway, so..."

She rolled her eyes, but shrugged it off rather quickly when she thought of the alternative. "My katana?"

"Carol got it and your shoes off the RV," he promised. "I'm not completely incapable of handling things without you telling me what to do."

"Sure," she nodded dismissively, beginning to contort herself to climb out of bed. "Where's Tara?"

"Rosita took her back to their house for a visit," he answered distractedly. " _What_ are you doing?"

"You said we could go home."

"And you think you're just gonna walk out?"

"Do I need discharge papers or something?"

He stood from his seat with a chuckle, realizing that she really did plan to walk out of there. "You're unbelievable."

_And games that never amount to more than they're meant  
Will play themselves out_

"I can walk," she assured him, though she put up no protest as he began to take her into his arms for the third time that day. "You're gonna hurt yourself."

"I'm not that old, you know."

"I know you're not old," she returned, clutching his neck. "But you are frail."

"What the hell, Michonne?"

"Because you're tired," she quickly corrected herself with a small chuckle. "Not in general, Rick, come on."

He looked down at her in playful suspicion before grabbing her medicine supply, and a tube of Neosporin, on their way out of the door. And with her in his arms, her head rested against his shoulder, the two of them made their way down the fairly empty streets of Alexandria, back towards their home.

_Take this sinking boat and point it home_  
We've still got time  


Michonne closed her eyes and let the thump of Rick's heartbeat lull her through their walk through their dark neighborhood. His breathing was heavy and steady, and she could feel his chest contracting beneath her. She could feel his hand clutching her ribcage, as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn't drop her, and it made her smile. It was a nice distraction from the dull ache in her thigh. It felt as if they'd been moving slowly, even floating, but when she reopened her eyes, Rick was carrying her up the steps of their porch.

_Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice  
You've made it now_

Once inside, he continued up the stairs, to her room, where he let her gently fall into her bed, finally. He dropped her painkillers to her nightstand before turning on the lamp there, and heading for her dresser, where their clean laundry was waiting. "You won't be able to take a full on shower for a couple of days," he noted as he sifted through their clothing.

"I've smelled worse," she shrugged, turning to get a view of Rick. "What are you up to back there?"

"I'm not stealin' anything, if that's what you think."

"That's actually not what I thought, but now I do," she answered, quirking an eyebrow.

He had grabbed a washcloth, as well as some pajamas for her, leaving them on the bed as he headed for the door. "Do not move," he instructed.

"Where am I gonna go?"

"Knowing you, you'd find a way."

"I won't move." She waved him off with a smile and watched with tired eyes as he disappeared down the hallway.

Michonne took the moment alone to change out of her dirty, sweaty, bloody top, exchanging it for the clean tank Rick had left on her bed. She then sat back, with her legs outstretched in front of her, to get a load of her wound, and get a real idea of how deeply she had been damaged. With a deep breath, she slowly pulled up the tape and gauze covering the gash, and hesitantly took a peek. It was even deeper than she thought, which was probably why Glenn never let her look at it in the first place. She replaced the bandage and then pressed down on it lightly, attempting to gauge her pain threshold.

"What are you doing?" Rick demanded from her doorway, his tone authoritative and fatherly. He had a bowl in his hand, and a frown on his face.

"I'm being a masochist," she admitted, grimacing up at him. "You never examine your wounds?"

"After they're already treated and patched up? No." He sauntered back into her room and dropped the bowl to her nightstand.

"Well then you're no fun."

"Not the first time I've heard that," he smirked. He stooped down in front of her with a wet washcloth in his hand, and gently cupped her face, wiping away all the extraneous blood and grime from the previous two days.

She knew he had the capacity to be gentle, she'd seen it with Carl, and especially Judith, on several occasions. But seeing his tough exterior melt away for anyone else was always mesmerizing to her. "You're sweet," she commented, watching his eyes examine her face.

"Is that better than being fun?" he wondered with a small smile.

_Falling slowly_  
Eyes that know me, and I can't go back  
_Moods that take me and erase me and I'm painted black_

"It is." She took the washcloth from his hands and used it to clean his face as well. She gently pulled off all of his tiny bandages, one by one, revealing all his scars, and ran the warm cloth over them. Wiping away the dirt and the hurt as she stared into his eyes. "I know I don't have to say this, but thank you."

"You don't have to say it," he affirmed, accepting the washcloth back from her. "But you're welcome."

As he moved back to the bowlful of water, Michonne laid flat on her bed and started to loosen her belt, knowing she would have to remove her pants at some point. She had been dreading the thought of trying to pull them off, given how tight they were, but there was no longer any avoiding it. She began to unbutton them with a deep sigh, while Rick looked at her in amusement.

"You need some help?"

She had to roll her eyes at the fact that she was so vulnerable, she actually did need help, but she nodded back at him. "Yes."

He knelt down on the floor in front of her, taking one of her feet into his hands. "I bet there are a lot of pornos that start exactly like this," he chuckled.

She let out an unexpected laugh that turned into a snort, shaking her head at him. "And I was just about to comment that this is gonna hurt."

"I'll be gentle," he promised, still smiling.

And he was very gentle, slowly rolling her pants over her hips, and carefully, _carefully_ down her thighs, giving extra deference to the injured one. But then, he didn't miss the fact that he was between his best friend's naked thighs – a position he'd imagined on more than one occasion – and that it was a completely inappropriate time to have such a thing on his mind. Michonne was hurt and relying on him, and all he could think about was the fact that she was lying on a bed in front of him, wearing a tank top and panties, and literally nothing else.

"You're a lifesaver," she sighed in relief.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" He stood from his position and grabbed the shorts that'd he picked out for her - something light, that wouldn't interfere with her bandages. "This was the best I could do," he informed her, holding up the boxers.

"They're not yours are they?"

"I don't like your tone, so I'm not gonna answer that," he retorted playfully. He helped her into the shorts - a much simpler task than peeling off her skintight pants – and then moved to grab the water bowl. With it, he sat down on the floor and took her foot into his hands once more, tenderly running the lukewarm washcloth across it, and up her bare leg.

Michonne could feel her foot twitching, somewhat ticklish, but mostly due to her nerves being on edge. Rick touching her like this was foreign, and her entire body was reacting to it, even in its exhausted state. It was all very innocent of course - this was basically how he washed Judith. But in the course of a day, their relationship had gone to yet another level of intimate, and she wasn't sure what to do with it. She wasn't sure how to feel about it. They had saved each other's lives many times over at that point, but this was something else entirely. Rick was taking care of her.

_You have suffered enough and warred with yourself_  
It's time that you won  


"Don't leave," she whispered as he finished with her other leg, letting it fall back to the bed. She gazed at him intently, wondering what his reaction would be. Hoping he wouldn't think her weak for wanting company. That was always the fear if she got too close to someone, but she was throwing caution to the wind here. She didn't ask for a lot, especially in terms of attention; always fine with, and even preferred, taking care of herself. But it felt nice to have someone else do it for a day. For Rick to do it. And she didn't need to cuddle or hold hands or anything like that; she just wanted to have him nearby. She wanted her friend.

_Falling slowly..._

He looked up at her, his tired eyes so blue they almost looked clear, and he shook his head. "I wasn't going to."

_Sing your melody  
I'll sing along_


	7. Scene

_Her naked body is a thing of pure beauty. A work of art, really, in its most vulnerable state. Her endless, delectable chocolate skin. Her muscular arms, toned stomach, and soft, strong thighs, all perfectly sculpted. Her plump breasts, looking like small mountains beneath her puffy dark brown nipples. He can't wait to roam those peaks and valleys. It's almost unbelievable that she's lying there on her bed, perfectly still, just waiting for him._

_He looms over her, still fully dressed, feeling himself getting harder with every second that passes. The longer he stares, the less in control he feels._

_"Rick," she whispers, opening her legs wide for him._

_He responds by running his finger along her inner thigh. She shivers at his touch, but then her hips move up to meet his hand, and suddenly, he's roaming the outer lips of her soft pussy. Just one finger, teasingly grazing her bikini line, then slowly across her slit. He can hear her breathing getting heavier, more labored as he massages her clit just long enough for it to be torturous, then makes his way back to her thigh._

_"Please," she whispers, spreading her legs even more._

_"Please what, Michonne?" He's tormenting her and he knows it, trailing back towards her center in painfully slow motions._

_"Just do it," she begs, biting her lip._

_Keeping his eyes on her face, he casually moves his finger over her clit once more, then adds his middle finger, exploring the folds of her delectable pussy, finally. She feels warm to the touch, and it's so soft. "How's that?"_

_She nods excitedly, feeling her entire body twitching in anticipation of him penetrating her. "Perfect."_

_He continues to gently stroke her sensitive bud, watching in amusement as her body contorts to his every move. Then he penetrates with one finger, then the other, feeling her cum instantly coat his hand. He can't believe how wet she is, and how hard it makes him. He watches her fondle her nipples, and now his cock is pressed uncomfortably against his jeans. He wants her. Badly. He wants to feel her, he wants to taste her, he wants to fuck her._

_"Rick," she calls out to him in a soft moan. She reaches out to touch him, her slender fingers grazing the hardened bulge in his pants as she tries to unbuckle his belt. He doesn't stop fingering her, and in fact, only plunges deeper, the closer she gets to freeing his throbbing dick. Her moans get louder and louder._

" _God, I've wanted to do this forever," he admits in a husky whisper. He helps her unbutton his jeans and moves in close to her mouth as she takes him into her hands. He's so stiff, he can barely breathe._

" _I know," she answers breathily. She lifts her head to meet his, her tongue just about to lick the tip, and she looks up at him..._

Rick's eyes popped open frantically, just when his dream was becoming too good to be true, and he stared up at the ceiling for several seconds. Confused by the addition of a ceiling fan, he turned to his right, finding Michonne sitting next to him. She seemed to be engaged in some book, oblivious to the fact that he was having dreams of fucking her. That he was aroused by it, even. He covered his face with his hand and tried to will the thoughts away.

Michonne glanced his way when she noticed him move, glad to see him awake, finally. She smiled down at him brightly. "Hey."

He hesitantly removed his face from his hands, sniffling as he answered her groggily. "Hey."

"You okay?" she smirked, noting the look of utter confusion on his face.

"Yeah, I just…" He sat up carefully, making sure the covers stayed in place until he could get back to a normal state, still looking around the room like it was foreign to him. "I forgot I was here, I guess."

She chuckled as she bookmarked her novel and placed it on her nightstand. "I did, too," she admitted. "I woke up wondering why the hell you were in my bed."

"Oh, well that's nice to know," he smiled, sniffling again.

"I took pain meds, though. What's your excuse?"

"Tired," he answered simply. "That was honestly the best sleep I've gotten in weeks."

"So you're saying we should sleep together more often," she offered playfully.

He nodded, laughing sleepily, but he could not ignore his dream at that point. It felt just as real as their current conversation, which had him a bit uncomfortable, a bit on edge as he sat there next to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got stabbed in the thigh," she joked again, a small sigh escaping her lips. "But I did get to the bathroom on my own, so I guess things aren't too dire."

He looked back at her, frowning at her revelation. "Why didn't you let me help you?"

"Because it was three in the morning, and you were knocked out. I didn't wanna wake you."

"Michonne, that was the whole point of me being here."

"Your mouth was all wide open," she continued teasingly. "Surprised you didn't drool all over my pillow…"

"Michonne."

"And you kept stealing the covers, you know. I'm the injured one, and I had to fight you to get my comforter back."

"I'm serious," he said, trying not to respond to her silliness. "You were supposed to let me help you."

"Rick, the point of you being here," she conceded, her tone softening from its playful one before, "was for you to be here."

"…And to help you if you needed something," he submitted, gazing back into her eyes. "I was so surprised when you asked me to stay. Shoulda known you'd go off by yourself anyway."

"You said you'd gotten an hour of sleep, and you spent all day yesterday carrying me around. You needed to rest."

"Didn't mean I couldn't help."

"Didn't mean you needed to," she quipped. "I swear you won't be happy until I'm laying in this bed all day, just waiting for you."

"Let's not get crazy," he said distractedly, his thoughts immediately flashing back to his dream. He decided to climb out of bed before he ended up back where he started, and went to her side of the room, grabbing the Neosporin from her dresser. "Let me see," he demanded, gesturing towards the covers.

Michonne knew he was referring to her wound, but it gave her a strange flutter all the same as she pushed down the sheets to give him access to her right thigh. "It's fine," she promised. She gazed at him as he stooped in front of her, his entire face wrinkled in focus as he pulled up her bandage. His warm hands on her thigh made her bite her bottom lip as she examined his face, noting that he looked much better than he had the day before. "It's amazing what a good night's sleep will do for you," she commented, pushing his messy hair back from his forehead.

He glanced up at her briefly before opening the tube of the antibiotic. "I have somethin' to tell you."

"That doesn't sound ominous at all…"

"It's not bad," he simpered as he began to gently apply the ointment to her injury. "I don't think."

"Okay…"

"While you were gone," he began with a small sigh. "Ethan made some shitty attempt at attacking us."

Michonne immediately began to frown at the information, and she stopped his hand from its work on her wound. "What?"

"He came by here the evening y'all left, pretending he wanted a truce," he explained, shaking his head. "I guess he figured I was vulnerable without you all."

"Well you were."

"Well, yeah. But he had four people with them, and god knows they could barely use a gun," he rolled his eyes. "My biggest fear was getting shot accidentally."

She scoffed in amusement at his joke. "So what happened?"

"Carol and Carl were here," he shook his head again, assuring her it wasn't that big of a deal. "Morgan spotted them trying to surround the house, and he got 'em inside. We basically held 'em hostage until I figured out what to do with them."

She was hesitant to ask the outcome of this story, but given how calm things seemed since she'd gotten home, she could guess that it hadn't gone down too badly. "And what did you decide?"

He looked up at her, his gaze studying her entire face before it caught her eye. "I did what I thought you would do," he said. "I let 'em stay."

"Really," she questioned, somewhat disbelievingly. Rick Grimes having mercy on someone that attacked his family was not his M.O.

He nodded and went back to tending to her gash. "We put 'em all in one house. Morgan's overseeing guard duty there."

"And nobody got hurt?"

"Not a single shot fired," Rick promised. "Believe it or not, I am capable of change."

She smiled down at him widely, genuinely, and lightly kicked him in the knee with her left foot. "I'm proud of you."

He felt himself blushing as he replaced her bandage, softly running his hand along her thigh to smooth the tape in place. He stood from the floor with a light sigh, looking around her large, clean room. "You hungry?"

"I could eat," she nodded, already beginning to pull herself out of bed.

"I can bring you somethin'."

"Did we not just have this conversation?" she retorted. She grabbed his arm and used him to pull herself up.

He shook his head at how hardheaded she was, but knew that there was no point in fighting her on this. He simply took her hand into his, and she held his waist, the two of them limping out of the room, side by side. They had just made it to the steps when a knock at the front door startled them both. They paused to see if someone else would answer, but either no one else heard, or they were home alone.

Rick could see through the curtain that it was Jessie, and he turned to Michonne with a regretful stare. "Just stay here, all right," he instructed, and could only hope she would listen. "I'll be  _right_  back."

"You want me to just stand here while you go talk to your girlfriend?" she questioned him, her tone dripping in sarcasm. "Okay, Rick."

"I want you to stand here while I answer the door."

She rolled her eyes and nodded for him to leave her there, stranded on the steps. "Go on then."

Rick did so with a somewhat nervous sigh, trudging down the staircase to answer his visitor. He swung the door open and greeted her with a small, polite smile. "Hey."

She grinned brightly at the sight of him again, finally. He'd disappeared the morning before, and she hadn't seen him since. "Hey," she answered cheerfully. She couldn't help but notice how much better he looked. Well rested. His bandages were gone. "You're home."

"I am," he nodded. "For the time being."

"I'm glad," she nodded back. "I was worried about you."

He tightened his hand on the doorknob as he shook his head. "I'm fine," he shrugged.

"I know," she conceded, "but still, every time you leave, it's like… 'Ahhh, is he coming back?'"

"I didn't realize you thought about it that much," he admitted, his eyes flitting towards their feet. "I wish I could've let y'all know I was leaving, but I just didn't have any time to waste."

"Oh," she immediately waved it off, pretending it hadn't bothered her. "Think nothing of it," she offered. "I'm just glad everyone is okay."

"Me, too." He glanced back into his home briefly, glad to see Michonne's feet still at the top of the stairs, then turned back to Jessie.

" _Is_  everything okay?" she wondered with a concerned frown. She'd noticed that he seemed to be in a strange mood, somewhat aloof and distracted.

"How do you mean?" he frowned back, confused.

"I dunno," she shrugged bashfully. "You kinda seem like you're somewhere else right now."

He turned back towards Michonne again. Still there. "Just got a lot of things on my mind, I guess."

"Ah. Well. What else is new," she grinned in an attempt to be comforting. "If you ever need someone to talk to, just wanna bend someone's ear, you know I'm always available."

He nodded appreciatively, but he knew he had that in spades. "No need to burden you, too," he tried to smile.

"I really don't mind," she maintained, moving in closer to him. "It'd be nice to know what you're thinking sometimes."

Rick leaned against the door now, trying to figure out how to tell her that she had no idea what she was asking for. Letting her in on his innermost thoughts would likely be terrifying for them both. "It's a special kind of fucked up that wants to know what's going on in this head," he chuckled.

"Well, I don't know if you've heard, but I kind of majored in 'fucked up,'" she smiled again. "On a good day, I can even do 'really fucked up.'"

He nodded, laughing lightly once more. "In that case, maybe I'll take you up on that offer sometime."

"I hope so," she returned, her dark eyebrows raised. "In fact, I was coming by to invite you over for dinner tonight, if you're up for it. You and the kids. We just wanted to thank you for your hospitality the other night."

"Oh, well, we appreciate that," he nodded. He stood up straight again, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I assure you, no thanks is needed at all."

"I'd really like to, Rick."

He looked back into the house again, noticing that he could no longer see Michonne. He figured she probably went back to her room, but he decided to pull the door closed anyway, joining Jessie out on the porch. "I should really stay home and keep an eye on Michonne," he said quietly.

"Oh. Of course," she shook her head in realization. "I forgot to even ask how she's doing."

"She's okay," he answered plainly. He was careful to say anything more than that, not wanting to reveal her vulnerability. He felt protective of that, especially when it came to someone not in their family. "It's never fun to be stabbed, but... she'll be fine."

"Good," she tried to smile again, but his standoffishness was hard to ignore at that point. "Well I'll let you get back to your day then..."

"I'll come by to check on you when I can," he promised, already reaching for his door again. "Maybe after dinner?"

Jessie nodded and she touched his arm lightly. "I'd like that."

* * *

By late afternoon, Michonne had spent most of her day on the couch, waiting for her housemates to grace her with their company. For the most part, it had been Judith and Carol, watching movies that none of them were interested in. But still, she enjoyed not having to sit alone. And once Carl returned from class, he didn't leave her side. The two of them were embroiled in a very intense game of Scrabble while Carol puttered around the kitchen making dinner.

"So guess what." Carl stared at Michonne excitedly, waiting for her to make her guess, while she was trying to make a word. "Come on."

She looked down at the game board between them, wondering if he was trying to distract her from the very important battle they had going. "You can't just randomly tell me to guess something. What does it have to do with?"

"If I tell you that, then you'll know the answer."

"Hmm," she answered, narrowing her eyes at him curiously. "Is this something we've discussed before?"

He nodded, rearranging his tiles to try and find a word before his turn came up. "A little bit."

"Is it about your dad?"

"Nope."

"Judith?"

"Nope." He took a big sip of apple juice while he waited for her to try again.

Michonne decided to play her word first - eulogy - before peering at him, dumfounded by this guessing game. After a few seconds, she decided to ask, "Does it have to do with school?"

He shrugged innocently, trying to suppress his smile. "Maybe..."

"You didn't get in another fight, did you?" she grimaced, already ready to scold him if he had. "I still never got a chance to tell your dad about the first one."

"I promise I didn't," he held up his right hand in a solemn swear. " _Actually_ , I got perfect scores on all three tests we took yesterday."

Michonne cocked her head to the side, beaming at him proudly. "Really?"

He nodded happily. "World History, Algebra, and Language Arts."

"Well look at you," she continued to smile back at him. "And here you thought you would hate being in class every day."

He blushed in reply as he added his own word to the game board. "I was always a good student. I think I just got lazy."

"Well. I can see where going back after being gone for two years would be difficult."

"I was a middle school dropout," he declared, chuckling at the thought.

She giggled at his joke, enjoying the way his whole face lit up as he laughed. He was like his father that way. "And now, look at you."

"I'm doing really well for myself," he nodded. "Friday night, and I'm sitting at home with my parents, playing Scrabble."

"Oh, well excuse me," she shot back, feigning offense. "I was under the impression that you  _wanted_  to hang out with me."

"I did. I do," he promised, suddenly turning serious. "But sometimes, I think about what I'd be doing if I were, like, a regular fifteen-year-old. I'd probably wanna be out of the house as much as I could until curfew. Don't you think?"

"Probably so," she surmised, gazing at him now. She hated that he was missing out on so many things that normal kids did, back in the day. Rick said Carl was adapting better than any of them, and for the most part, he was, but they couldn't discount the fact that that old life still meant something to him. "How often do you think about this?" she wondered softly.

He sighed deeply and began to pick through his letters again. "Not a lot," he shrugged. "I think I have it buried, but then it comes up every now and then. When we're in class and there's no one sitting in front of me. When I think about what Judith will be like in a few years. How she'll have no friends her age."

"Jesus," Michonne whispered to herself. She had never thought of things that way, especially when it came to Judith. But she understood exactly where Carl was coming from. Those thoughts of the old days often snuck up on her too, and she had to always push them back down. Find a way to be content in the new life they were making. It seemed she had gotten better at it than she thought. "We'll be her friends," she offered with a rueful smile.

"I know she probably won't even notice," Carl reasoned with himself. "She's never known anything else. But I'll be an adult when she's like 10, and it'll make me sad for her."

Michonne could feel the tears stinging at the backs of her eyes, as thoughts of Andre began to creep up on her. She remembered, back when they thought Judith was gone, how Carl said maybe she and Andre were together. It broke her heart then, but it still stung now, when she thought of how they could've been there, at Alexandria, together. He could've been Judith's friend. "Shit," she whispered again when her tears began to fall. She tried to pretend she was scratching her forehead so she could hide them from Carl, but the damage had been done.

"Michonne, are you okay?" he asked, his face showing every ounce of his concern.

"I'm fine," she sniffled, quickly wiping at her face with the bottom of her shirt. She gave him a small smile, hoping he would believe her. "Next time, you warn me before you start a conversation like that," she teased.

He nodded. "I didn't mean to get so dark," he smiled back. "Like I said, it just comes up without warning sometimes."

"It does." She reached across the table for a tissue, grimacing a bit when she had to move her leg in the process. "Maybe I should sit on the floor for a while," she groaned quietly.

"It still hurts?" he questioned just as worried about her physical pain as he was her emotional.

"It does," she admitted, trying to find a more comfortable position. "Not so much when I'm sitting, but when I try to hobble around, it does not feel good."

"Which is why Dad told you to stop hobbling around."

"Yes," she rolled her eyes at the Daddy routine Rick was trying to pull on her.

"But you're not gonna listen to him, are you?"

"I'm... gonna keep it to a minimum," she said. "But I can't sit in that room all day. I can't."

"He said you were an awful patient," Carl smiled, seeing that his father had been right.

"He did, did he?" She narrowed her eyes up at the ceiling, knowing Rick was upstairs at the moment.

"He said 'stubborn' was probably your middle name, and you won't be happy until you reopen your own wound."

"Well your dad lives in a glass house, apparently."

"I think he just worries about you," Carl offered, laughing lightly. "We all do."

"I know…"

"I knew he wouldn't have just left here unless something was really wrong. So the whole time you guys were gone, I was just kind of terrified."

She titled her head at him, hating that she'd given him reason to be scared. "I wish he'd told you he was leaving first."

"I'm glad he didn't," Carl shook his head. "He obviously didn't have time to waste."

She couldn't argue with that, considering she passed out before they'd even made it inside the gates. "You're so mature," she smiled at him, proud once again. "I love that about you."

"I like that you guys trust me," he nodded. "That's a cool feeling."

"I'll be honest. I wasn't sure what I was gonna come back to when I left you here with Ron and his mom," she chuckled. "But I'm glad I went with my gut."

"That actually turned out fine for me and him," Carl revealed with a confident grin. "I think he realized I could totally kick his ass, so he backed off."

"You're so silly," she smiled back, shaking her head.

"It's true."

"So can you two be friends again, or do you think you reached the point of no return?"

His big childlike eyes stared back at her as he pondered the question. "I dunno," he replied sincerely. "We got along okay while you were gone, and I think that's because his mom just really wants us to be friends. But I can't see how we go back to what we were, knowing how he feels about my dad."

"Yeah..." She took a swig of her own apple juice, but her mind had wandered away from their conversation, suddenly. Instead, her mind drifted to what little she'd overheard of Rick and Jessie's conversation from that morning, and now Carl was implying that they'd spent some significant time together. She felt strangely threatened by the thought, and she didn't like it. She didn't like it, but she also couldn't control it. "Shit," she sighed, coming to a slow and honest realization of what was happening to her.

Carl looked up, confused by her sudden outburst. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, unsure how to even process it, much less, discuss it. "Nothing," she exhaled again. "You should go set the table for dinner."

* * *

Rick turned to the sound of the back door opening, not at all surprised to see Michonne limping across the porch towards him, toting a glass of wine in each of her hands. "So you're using your time off to become an alcoholic, I take it," he joked, watching her take a seat beside him.

"One is actually for you," she smirked, handing over one of the glasses full of cheap Pinot. She sat back against the bench and rested her injured leg in his lap. "You're welcome."

"Thank you." He held up his drink, and they clinked glasses before each of them took a small sip. "I probably shouldn't be letting you drink while you're taking pain meds," he realized.

"It's very cute that you think you're 'letting' me do anything," she scoffed playfully. "But if it helps you out, I wasn't planning on taking any more. I don't like the way they make me feel."

"As in better?"

She lightly poked the side of his thigh with her free hand, making a face at him. "As in groggy," she corrected him. She took another sip of her wine, watching as he finished his off. Rick wasn't a big wine drinker, so to see him down a few ounces in one gulp was surprising. "You all right? You need another one?"

He nodded, placing his empty glass on the floor, then rested his hands on her bare leg. He still had some strange feelings lingering from his dream that morning, and the wine most certainly helped to combat them. "Who was at the door just now?"

"Enid," she answered with a sigh. "She and Carl are sitting out on the front porch."

"Mmm."

"Is that okay?"

"Of course," he answered quietly.

Things between them went into a somewhat comfortable silence, and Michonne stared at the side of his face for a moment, taking him in. She always enjoyed his face, but she had gotten more audacious about staring at him these days. His jaw line, covered in light scruff, the dimples of his cheeks, the way his hair curled around his ears. He was so attractive. "I have a question," she declared, also finishing off her second glass of wine for the night, then setting her glass on he floor. He glanced back at her expectantly, his eyes locking on hers. "What hospitality was Jessie thanking you for this morning?"

He frowned, baffled by whatever she was referring to at first. But then his porch talk with Jessie came back to him, and he sighed heavily. "She and Ron and Sam slept over here the night you were gone. The night Ethan tried to attack us."

"I see…"

"It was nothin'," he assured her, not taking his eyes off of her. "I was out on watch for a few hours, by the time I got back, the boys had fallen asleep, so I told Jessie she could stay."

She quirked an eyebrow at the information he obviously hadn't planned on telling her. And maybe it would've been better that way, because it was certainly an odd feeling to know Jessie had slept in her home while she was gone. "That's interesting."

"She slept in my room, Judith and I took yours," he added.

"Well. That's none of my business," she made sure to say. That was the only stance she could afford to take. "I was just curious, I guess."

"Maybe if you'd stayed on the steps like I told you, you could've found out for yourself."

She shrugged, playing with the hem of her boxer shorts as she avoided his gaze. "I felt like I was eavesdropping."

"If I cared about that, I would've closed the door."

"Like I said," she shook her head, "that's your business."

Rick nodded, understanding that the subject of Jessie would always be a contentious one for them. Even if he wanted Michonne's advice, he wouldn't be able to ask for it. He'd ruined that by acting so silly about her when they first arrived. "It's okay if you care," he decided to say anyway, and his voice was so quiet, it was nearly inaudible.

She looked back at him, uncertain that she'd heard him correctly. "What?"

"Nothin'," he reconsidered, not wanting to argue. The back porch was a peaceful spot for them. It was where they came to talk, but also not talk, and he didn't want to ruin that. He ran his thumb back and forth across her leg, enjoying the softness of her skin. He gazed over at her, and she was looking down, her long hair falling to cover most of her expression. He wanted to reach out and push her hair back so he could see her face, but he refrained from it, figuring it wasn't his place. Unsure of what his place was anymore. Everything felt so confusing all of a sudden, and he didn't know why.

"Do you smell smoke?" she commented, interrupting his rampant thoughts. "Cigarette smoke."

He inhaled sharply, but nothing caught his nose. "I don't think so."

She shrugged it off and pulled her leg from his lap, feeling numb from the particular position. "I should go inside," she said, having felt the same shift that Rick did in the moment. It wasn't comfortable anymore.

"Before you go," he said, holding out his hand, "there was one more thing I wanted to tell you."

"I don't wanna know anything else about what you did while I was gone," she chuckled, slowly standing from her seat.

"It's not that." He patted the spot on the bench she'd just vacated, willing her to sit back down. "I'm probably gonna be gone for a couple of days," he declared uneasily.

Hearing the gravity in his tone, she sat back next to him, her face equally as serious. "For what?"

"Aaron has a line on some medics holed up at a vet center not too far from here. We're gonna go check it out, see if we can convince a doctor to come back with us."

Michonne covered her mouth with her fingers, unsure of how to respond. She didn't want to be a worrywart, but her first inclination was to tell him that she didn't want him to go. Not after what they'd just gone through. "That sounds… dangerous," she decided to say.

"It's a gamble," he admitted. "But we have to have a doctor here. We can't put this kinda stuff on Rosita," he gestured to her wound. "It's not fair to her."

She nodded in understanding; he was right about that. Any community worth their salt needed to have a doctor available, and they were vulnerable without one. She was able to quickly weigh the options, and this was the lesser of two evils, she knew. "I know I'm not at a hundred percent, but okay. Between me and Carol, the kids will be fine."

He nodded knowingly, thankfully. "I need you to rest, though, Michonne. You can't go runnin' up and down the steps all day."

"Okay, Dad."

"I'm serious," he said, demanding her gripping brown gaze. Her eyes were shimmering in the moonlight, he noticed, and he had to look down before he got lost in them. "I'm saying this because I care about you. Maybe more than I should," he chuckled. "But I need you to be okay."

Her stare focused in on him, realizing that he was, in fact, very serious here. And his concerned dad act was because he really was concerned about her. Her hard gaze fell, and she nodded, not wanting to make things any harder on him than they were. "I will," she promised. "You know you can trust me."

"If I know nothing else about you, I do know that," he remarked, smiling sweetly at her. He watched as she sat back on the bench, lifting both legs to rest in his lap now. "Oh, so you're not leavin' me out here anymore?"

"The subject has changed," she smirked, using the rest of the bench to lay down flat on her back. "For the better."

"So when things get uncomfortable, you just abandon me, huh?"

"Don't do this," she warned him, trying not to smile at him. "We were just getting back to normal."

"You're the one that's scared to talk about her," he teased, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles on the skin of her leg. "So you should be saying that to yourself."

"Please talk about literally anything else," she shook her head.

He chuckled back at her, glad that they had such an easy rapport. Even with things starting to go sideways, they were able to find their groove again within minutes. "You know what?"

She looked back at him curiously, intrigued by the happy smirk he had on his face. "What?"

"I had a dream about you last night."

Michonne sat up on her elbows, feeling her tipsiness take over as her eyes danced across his face. "Really?" she smiled widely.

He nodded, already blushing at the thought of telling her what his dream entailed. But he knew her well enough to figure she'd be amused by the idea. "It was… definitely not the kind of dream you have about your friends."

"You're lying."

"Why the fuck would I lie about that?" he laughed, his face turning redder by the second. "You told me to talk about anything else."

"Shit, Rick." She found herself laughing loudly at just the thought. "Who knew you had it in you?"

He looked at her sideways, almost offended by the idea that sex wasn't on his mind at least sometimes. "I'll have you know, it was  _you_  that was gonna have it in you."

Michonne let out a loud cackle that the entire neighborhood had likely heard at that point. She felt her face grow hot as she kicked Rick's thigh with her uninjured foot. "Who are you, and where is Rick Grimes?"

"I'm multifaceted, you know."

"That much is  _clear_ ," she continued laughing, covering her forehead with her hand as she laid back down. "That is fantastic."

"I'm glad we had this talk," he chuckled, staring back at her. He was so amused that he could make her laugh like that. "Now you get to tell me one of your embarrassing secrets."

"Hold on a minute, cowboy," she interjected once she sobered up from her fit of giggles. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened in this dream."

Rick immediately turned back towards the house, pretending he was about to head back inside. "I think I hear Carl calling me, actually."

"Sit," she demanded, pressing her foot into his thigh. "And don't you dare leave anything out."

* * *

Jessie walked into her back door just as Ron came storming through the front, and she felt a headache coming on, just seeing the expression on his face. He looked agitated, and she wasn't in the mood to fight with him then. She didn't have it in her.

"Whatever it is, can we please just discuss it in the morning," she pleaded, throwing her jacket and her carton of cigarettes to the nearest barstool.

Ron looked back at her strangely, unclear on what she was referring to. "There's nothing to say anymore, Mom."

She was surprised to hear that, given the fact that he'd fought her on nearly everything, practically nonstop, for the past week. "Are you all right," she frowned, using the back of her hand to feel his forehead.

"I'm fine." He recoiled from her touch, and turned towards the kitchen, still in the same state it had been from their dinner. "I thought Sam was supposed to be cleaning up."

"He is," she said, distractedly turning from where he was sitting in the living room, in front of the television. "Sam," she snapped. "Weren't you supposed to wash the dishes before bed?"

He turned back to his mother, a confused frown taking over his face as well. "I haven't gone to bed yet."

"It's nearly ten o'clock," she almost yelled. "You know your bedtime on school nights. So don't tell me you're gonna clean the whole kitchen in seventeen minutes."

"Mom, it's Friday."

"What?" she quipped.

"It's not a school night," he said calmly. "I was gonna do it after I finished my movie."

"Oh." She sighed heavily, feeling her own face now. She was starting to feel a bit crazy all of a sudden. "Shit."

Ron looked up from the kitchen counter, where he was rummaging through drawers, noticing that his mother was acting odd. Odd for her, anyway. She looked almost as distraught as she did the night their dad died. "Mom, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled, still holding her throbbing head. There was just so much noise in the room, and she couldn't understand why. " _What_  are you looking for?"

"Nothing."

"Then please stop," she said, turning for the living room. She took a much-needed seat on the arm of her couch, where she noticed she had a perfect view of where Pete and Rick had gone through her front window a few weeks back. Back when Rick was fighting for her. It wasn't that long ago, but somehow, it felt like another lifetime now. "I need quiet," she announced to her kids, holding her hands over her eyes. "I'm gonna go to my room. Please keep the TV down. Whatever the hell you're doing over there," she pointed to Ron. "Just keep it down here."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ron wondered. "You look like someone just gave you some bad news."

"I'm fine, baby," she promised with a sad smile. "I just have a really bad headache."

He nodded, watching as his mom shuffled out of the room and towards the stairs. And as she requested, he quietly moved to the next drawer, where he finally found exactly what he'd been looking for – the handgun Carl Grimes had given his mother.


	8. Knot

**Chapter 8: Knot**

It was midnight, and Michonne was lying in her empty bed, doing her best to empty her head and find sleep. But every time she closed her eyes, thoughts of Rick came crashing through, refusing to allow her any solace. Perhaps it was because he was gone on his mission to find a doctor, and she simply wasn't used to being home without him. Perhaps it was because they'd practically been attached at the hip for two days straight, so it was difficult to get the picture of him out of her head. But the real problem seemed to be that she could not stop envisioning the dream he told her about.

It was her own fault, she knew. She demanded that he tell her every dirty detail, and now they were all swirling around in her brain, making a mess. The thought of Rick touching her had crossed her mind once or twice – when they shamelessly flirted with one another, or when she knew he was staring at her ass. She would imagine him holding it with both hands while she rode him. But they were always just flashes of images. Nothing long enough to warrant a true fantasy. But now? All she could picture was Rick fingering her teasingly, while she laid naked in that very bed, writhing to the feel of him. She imagined pulling his hard dick from his pants, how it would fit in her hands, how it would taste.

"Fuck," Michonne whispered to herself. She turned from her side to her back, running her hand along her thigh, where her fresh bandage was. She thought of how it felt to have Rick's hands on that thigh, and the stupid flutter it gave her the first few times he'd done it.

Their time at Alexandria had changed so much about their relationship, and it was manifesting itself as she laid there, thinking about him. And she wasn't sure what had caused the shift, which made it all the more confusing. They had been close for so long, but suddenly, she had begun to  _feel_  things. Emptiness when they were apart. Pangs of jealousy when she thought of him and Jessie. And now, knowing that he'd pictured her naked was a huge turn on. It was all so strange.

Before she knew it, her eyes had closed and she was seeing Rick's face, all while her hand inched to the left, making its way inside her panties. She wasted no time using her index and middle fingers to softly massage her clit; envisioning Rick licking his lips as he watched her, as he touched her himself. Her head pressed against the headboard, she began to breathe heavier as she continued downward, dipping her fingers into her warm, wet center. Her mouth was agape as she stroked herself towards an orgasm, Rick's face on her mind, his name on her lips. She moaned out quietly in response to her self-pleasure, but she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from saying his name out loud.

Her fingers were fully immersed in her own wetness, and she was right on the verge of a climax, when the static of the walkie-talkie on her nightstand shook her out of her fantasy. Especially when it was followed by the sound of Rick's voice.

" _Open the gates!_ " he was yelling.

Michonne could tell something was wrong by the tone of his voice, and immediately stopped what she was doing. "Fuck," she whimpered once more, feeling the entire moment slipping away from her. It had been months since her last self-induced orgasm, and of course, once she was finally in the vicinity of one, it seemed that more danger was looming.

With a sigh, she pulled out of bed, glad to know that her friend was home safely, at least. She grabbed the walkie with her clean hand as she began to hobble towards the bathroom. "Rick?" she asked into the radio, even though she knew it was him.

" _Michonne_." He spoke her name as though it were the answer to her question. " _Are Carl and Judith okay?_ "

"They're fine," she promised, still confused by the tone of his voice. "Is Aaron with you? Did you find a doctor?"

" _Yes and yes_ ," he replied quickly. But then there was a long pause before he spoke again. " _I need Lysol_ ," he added cryptically.

She frowned, knowing that was the code phrase for her to switch to Channel 4 on the transmitter. It was just for a select few people, so she knew something was likely very wrong. She did exactly that as she closed the door to the bathroom and took a seat on the closed toilet. "I'm here."

" _Are Carol and Daryl with you_?"

"They're in their rooms."

" _Well I need you to get them and wait for me in the living room_ ," he instructed. " _I'll be there in a few minutes_."

"Rick," she called out to him firmly. "What is going on?"

Another long pause before he came back over the radio, his voice lower than before. " _There's a herd headed this way_."

* * *

Jessie sat at her kitchen table, staring out of her back window at the dreary day, a bottle of wine as her only companion. Her mind was racing as Ron came strolling into the house, his head covered by his hoodie, and his hands in his pockets. She watched in surprise as he sat down across from her with a loud sigh.

"You okay?" she quirked an eyebrow at him curiously.

"Yup."

She pulled her wine bottle from between them and poured herself another glass as she spoke, still staring at him suspiciously. "How was class?"

He shrugged and sat back in his chair. "I didn't go."

"Why the hell not?" she demanded, immediately sitting up a little straighter as she frowned at him.

"Because I can't," he stated evenly. "I can't sit there with them anymore. Pretending things are fine. Pretending I don't hate them."

"Them?"

"Carl," he said. "Enid. And their stupid jokes, and their stupid laughing, and their stupid study groups."

"You know you're the one isolating yourself from them, right?"

He looked up at her with a nod. "It just doesn't feel fun anymore. It all feels dumb."

Jessie sighed heavily and downed some of her wine before speaking again. "I know that the world shifted for you after your father died," she said softly. "And maybe it doesn't feel right to have happy moments yet. Maybe it'll take some time. But Enid and Carl, specifically, know exactly what you're going through. Enid lost  _both_  her parents, and she can still find a way to smile," she reminded him. "So all I've been trying to say is, maybe don't shut them out. Maybe they can show you something that I can't."

"Well I don't think you can show me anything," he muttered back, "so that's a good bet."

"Hey," she snapped at him, harshening her tone. "Don't be cruel."

"You've been practically comatose for the past three days and you're trying to give me advice about shutting people out?" His demeanor was no longer calm and he had pushed back from the table. "Are you kidding me?"

"I'm not kidding you," she retorted, looking down at her unstable hands. "I want you to be better than me. I'm not... I don't always do things right-"

"That's an understatement."

"But no one gave me a handbook to say, 'Hey, here's what you do in this situation.'  _Everything_  is fucked up, and I know you see that. I know you feel that. So please don't judge me for how I handle my pain."

"Mom, I've never judged you," Ron said as sincerely as he knew how. "Not when Dad was doing whatever and you couldn't walk away. Even when Dad was still here and you started acting like Rick was your magical savior. But I just don't think you've seen anything clearly since he walked into those gates." He dug into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the gun he'd taken from her emergency stash at the start of the weekend. He placed it on the table and watched as her face slowly transformed to shock. "I've had that for three days now," he revealed, his tone expressing his disappointment and disapproval. "It took me all of three minutes to find."

"Ron-"

He leaned in close, demanding her gaze. "You have to wake up, Mom. You  _have_  to."

"I know," she answered in a whisper.

He opened his mouth to continue chiding her, but quickly realized that she had agreed with him. "What?"

"You're right," she maintained, nodding. Her eyes began to water and she blinked them out before wiping them away. "I got caught up in some silly fantasy world where knights in shining armor exist. And they don't. And I know that now."

"You do..."

"We have to take care of ourselves," she submitted with a light sniffle. She remembered when she tried to tell that to Rick, and he wouldn't listen. When he said he could take care of her. She exhaled heavily, feeling sick at the thought of how silly she was to believe such a thing. "I'm trying to get there."

He stared at his mother in confusion and surprise, wondering how it came to pass that she was suddenly so enlightened. "What happened to change your mind?"

"I dunno," she shrugged sadly. "I just... opened my eyes, I guess." She slid the gun from the table and opened the bullet chamber to see if it was still empty. "You still shouldn't have taken this."

"I shouldn't have," he agreed. "I just thought it would scare you. But then it turned out you didn't even notice."

"Jesus, I get it. I'm a horrible mother," she acknowledged with a small sarcastic smile. "You don't have to twist the knife."

"You're not a horrible mother," he said, looking her in the eye again. "Dad wasn't even a horrible father-."

"The jury's still out on that," she cut in with a scoff.

"No, you're right," he reconsidered quickly. "I try to remember the good stuff, but… what he did to you, he did to us. And I understand why you didn't grieve him the way I wanted to."

Her worried expression fell into one of relief at her son's words. "You do?"

"Don't get me wrong," he appended, holding up his hand. "I still don't think Rick is good for you. I wish he would just go away, honestly. But I get why you thought you needed him."

She took his hand into hers, resting them both on the tabletop and she smiled. "So it sounds like we both woke up."

He was about to respond, when a knock at the door interrupted them, and he only looked down glumly. It was the first time in weeks that they'd shared a moment of understanding, and now it was being intruded on, most likely by Rick, he figured.

Jessie went to answer, a bit surprised to find Carol on her doorstep. She also halfway expected it to be Rick. "Hey," she greeted her next-door neighbor with a polite smile.

"Hey, Jessie," Carol returned shortly. "Ordinarily, I'd stand here and make small talk, and I'd use cryptic language so as not to scare you. But I think you've seen enough to warrant me cutting right to the chase," she began to explain.

Jessie's eyebrows knitted in confusion, but also intrigue. "Okay…"

"There's a herd of walkers headed straight for Alexandria. We've spent most of today trying to redirect them, but with the size of this herd, it's just… too dangerous. So the Safe Zone goes into lockdown tonight." Her tone was so even and calm, it was almost alarming. "Minimal light, minimal noise, no movement outside the gates. You and your boys should report to my house by eight." Carol handed her a piece of paper containing a survival checklist of sorts. "Bring everything you can on that list."

"Really?" Jessie accepted the paper, perusing it as she quietly wondered why she was being invited to Rick's house. Given what she'd seen a few days prior, it just didn't make sense. "Rick is back, I take it?"

"He got back last night."

"Is this an invite from him?"

Carol stared back at her blankly. "It's a mandate from him," she clarified. "Half the neighborhood will be there."

"Oh." She was taken aback by Carol's direct tone, but nodded. "He's probably not even gonna be there," she realized.

"Jessie, this is about saving your life. Saving your kids' lives. I'm not here as cupid."

Jessie immediately covered her face in embarrassment, shaking her head at how silly she was being. "I'm so sorry," she replied holding her reddened cheeks. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"You like him," Carol said softly. "I get it."

"I'm acting like an idiot, though."

"You shouldn't let it distract you," she agreed. "Rick isn't going anywhere."

She felt her eyes sting with tears, knowing that that wasn't true. "You sure about that?" she smiled back at Carol sadly.

"He's not gonna die," she rolled her eyes. "Not from a few hundred walkers on our doorstep."

"That's not what I mean." Jessie began to stare at the ground as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I just get the feeling... he's just not that into me."

Carol's annoyed frown quickly turned to confusion when she realized that Jessie was really sad about something here. "What makes you say that?"

"Just… stuff I've noticed," she nodded, looking up at her. "There's been an aloofness there for a while. I dunno. It was never quite the same after Pete died," she had to admit, "but now it just feels... cold. I dunno if it's guilt, or... maybe I said something. Maybe I didn't do enough. But I feel like I've been trying to hold on to him and he's just slipping through my grasp." She shook her head as she thought of him with Michonne on their back porch a few days before. "Maybe I've been holding onto something I never had in the first place."

"Maybe," Carol said, halfway wondering what had happened so suddenly. It didn't sound like Rick had broken anything off. "Maybe he just wanted to give you some time after Pete."

"I thought so, too. But I keep trying to drop hints that I'm okay, and he just keeps… inching further away from me."

"Well," she sighed, her sympathy beginning to run dry at that point. "Men rarely take the time to end things. They just ignore you until you insist on a declaration of hate," she prophesized. "Is that what you want?"

She shook her head, still wiping her eyes. "I didn't ask for any of this."

"Well you got it," Carol shot back. "If you feel that raw about it, maybe tell him how you feel. Maybe not. But you need to move forward, Jessie."

She scoffed at Carol's flippancy about her situation. "It's so simple when it's someone else's life."

Carol sighed heavily, now officially annoyed by her lack of a problem here. "It's simple when the answer is staring you in the face. You don't have to like it, but you do have to accept it. Whatever it is that you've realized, whatever it is that's making you feel like this," she gestured, "you let it go. You cry your tears, you dry your eyes, and you move forward."

Jessie stared back at Carol for a few seconds, recalling how Rick said she'd started in a place similar to her own. She wasn't sure what that meant, but she wanted to ask now. "Is that what you did?" she wondered.

Carol didn't hesitate to answer, "Yes."

Once again startled by her bluntness, Jessie just nodded back in understanding.

"I've started over a few times," she added, softening her tone. "This is always the hardest part."

She exhaled sharply as she placed her hand on her doorknob, ready to go back inside now. "I guess I'll see you at eight then."

"Good."

* * *

Darkness had just fallen over the city as Rick was finally able to take a break from being leader and simply settle into a corner of his crowded home. With twenty people roaming around his house, all of the seating had been taken, so he and Judith, along with their dinner for the night, took a spot on the floor. He chose to sit just behind the dining table, where Carl was with Michonne, and some of the other neighborhood kids, putting a puzzle together. It made him smile when Michonne suggested it, because it was the perfect thing to keep them occupied and quiet. He loved that she was always thinking ahead.

It didn't take long for Carl to notice his father and sister just a few feet away. "You don't wanna help us, Dad?"

"I'm all right," he declined with a smirk as he fed Judith a piece of a cracker. He was just happy to sit down, finally. "I could use a mental break right about now."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged. He made a silly face at Judith when she turned in the direction of his voice, then added, "You'd probably just slow us down anyway."

Michonne looked up at him, trying not to laugh at the insult. But the fact was, Rick was terribly slow at just about anything recreational, and they all knew it.

"What's that supposed to mean," Rick argued, his face contorting to a frown.

"It just means you're slow," Carl shot back playfully. "Not like, mentally slow. But whenever we play a game, you take  _forever_."

"That is not true."

Michonne turned back to give him a look of disbelief. "That's a hundred percent true, and you know it."

Rick gazed at her for a beat, smiling, but offended by her stance against him. "So y'all are just gonna gang up on me now? That's how it is?"

"That is exactly how it is," she grinned.

Carl continued to sort through his puzzle pieces as he added, "We're just telling the truth, Dad."

"I'll have you know that I'm actually very good at puzzles."

"Is that why it takes you an hour to pull out a Jenga block?" Michonne teased.

"That is such an exaggeration," he chuckled, shaking his head at the pile-on. "You're the one that takes nineteen minutes to decide whether you wanna buy a property."

"That was one time!" she defended in a harsh whisper. "And Park Place is serious business."

"That was a really long time," Carl had to agree, nodding at Michonne. "Like, Dad fell asleep, woke up, and you were still thinking about it."

"Listen. We were talking about your dad."

"And now we're talking about you," Rick shot back, taking a bite of his food. "It's all fun and games until you get thrown under the bus, right?"

She turned back to him, her eyes relaying her lack of amusement. "You're an idiot," she remarked factually. The rest of the table laughed at their banter, while Rick went back to his dinner with Judith, and Michonne continued to put the tiny pieces of their puzzle together. She glanced at everyone's progress, surprised to see that Ron had quietly constructed a large corner of the image of The White House. "And Ron is over there just making us all look bad," she joked.

The teenager looked up at her, startled by the fact that he was being addressed. "I've just done this one before."

"That's cheating," Sam declared, frowning at his older brother.

"You did it by yourself?" Michonne questioned, impressed if he had.

"It gets really boring around here," he shrugged, smiling shyly. "Before you guys moved in here, we would just hang out in your attic, trying not to die of boredom."

Carl and Enid looked at one another knowingly - knowing that they had been out in the wild, just trying not to die. But neither of them said anything while Michonne was the one to answer him.

"So we took your clubhouse," she realized, sliding part of her section of the puzzle to the middle of the table. "That sucks."

"It did suck," Enid confirmed, glancing at Ron now. "It was our way to get away."

"We mostly just read," Mikey inserted into the conversation with a nod. "Remember, we were gonna start writing our own comic book?"

"We actually did start," Ron remembered with a small smile. "And then Deanna said we couldn't have any more paper."

Michonne chuckled, but she hated that something constructive for them had been snatched away. These kids needed something normal in their lives. She knew Carl did, anyway. "Well. Y'all aren't gonna be running through my house all the time," she started off, smiling jokingly at the small group. "But if you want, we can set up some hours for the clubhouse, and you can use it at those times, specifically."

The four teenagers looked at her in surprise, Carl speaking for all of them. "Really?"

"Why not," she shrugged. "No one else is using it."

"That would be awesome," Mikey nodded happily.

"It would," Ron agreed, though less enthusiastically. "Thanks, Michonne."

Enid turned towards Carl's dad, the new leader of Alexandria, for all intents and purposes. "Is that okay with you, Mr. Grimes?"

Rick looked up from his daughter with a shrug and a smile. "I don't make the rules in this house," he had to admit.

He also had to admit, to himself, that he was enjoying listening and watching Michonne interact with the kids. He shouldn't have been surprised how good she was with them, considering how well she and Carl got along, but it made him smile all the same, seeing how they all responded to her. He thought it would be a feat to convince a bunch of teenagers to do a puzzle in the first place, but as he sat there watching her, he realized they probably just gravitated toward her.

"I'm gonna let you guys in on a little secret," Michonne began to whisper, pretending she really did have a secret to share. "Mr. Grimes is really just a big old softy."

"I can hear you, you know," he called out to her.

"He's trying to act hard right now, but he's basically a teddy bear. I got this tiny little cut on my leg," she said, pointing to her stab wound, "he melted like an ice cream cone the second he saw it."

"You almost died, Michonne."

She playfully waved off his assessment of the situation and shook her head at the kids. "So sensitive."

They all laughed, and he couldn't help but do so either, his eyes fixated on the back of her as she moved her puzzle pieces across the table. Those shoulders, drawing him in again, contracting every time she shifted.

His gaze was so transfixed on her, he hadn't noticed Jessie had been staring at him since he sat down; that she was now walking towards him purposefully. In fact, it wasn't until she was hovering directly over him that he remembered anyone else was even in the room. He looked up at her, both startled and confused by her sudden appearance. "Hey."

"Hey," she answered flatly. "Can we talk?"

"Sure." He began to move over so that she could have a space against the wall.

"Somewhere private," she countered, glancing around the crowded room. "I don't want... everyone to hear this."

He nodded, quickly standing from his spot to oblige her request. He knew the entire bottom floor of his home was filled with people, so he led her upstairs, where things were empty and much quieter. They continued into his room, where he gestured for Jessie to take a seat on his bed, while he placed Judith in her crib, and then joined his friend.

"Everything okay?" he wondered, having noticed the odd expression on her face.

"I don't know," she admitted with a shaky sigh. "I kept debating with myself whether to even bring this up, but it's... it's festering, and it's driving me crazy."

Rick gave her a look of concern, genuinely clueless as to what she was referring to. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," she said as if that were supposed to explain everything to him. "Nothing is happening."

"I don't understand."

Jessie sneered in annoyance, seeing that he was going to make their conversation as difficult as possible. "Of course you don't," she mumbled. She exhaled again, and tried to look him in the eye. "What were you thinking when you kissed me at Deanna's house?" When she noticed that he looked more baffled than before, she added, "And I don't mean 'What were you thinking' as in, 'Are you crazy?' I'm asking genuinely. What was on your mind at that moment?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, avoiding her stare. "I'd had a lot to drink. I wasn't thinking at all, really."

"So was I silly to think that there was some hint of attraction there? Was that all in my head?"

"No," he answered quickly. "There was something there. Something I was never quite able to define..."

"I thought so," she nodded, running her hand over her face. "After your fight with Pete, it feels like I've been watching it… decay."

"A lot happened since that kiss, Jessie. I mean, everything with Pete, with Reg. Morgan showing up." He shook his head at the thought of everything they'd been through in just a few short weeks. "I haven't... I was in some sort of state when we first got here. It felt like a dream or somethin'. I dunno. But I had to wake up." He hung his head in something akin to shame. "That fight..."

"That fight was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me."

Rick looked up at her, realizing that the gossip folks weren't the only ones that thought he was fighting for Jessie. She thought so, too. And he wasn't sure how to tell her that that wasn't necessarily the case. "It was... that wasn't my best moment."

She nodded. "So you walked away from that and realized you didn't want me anymore, I guess."

"I realized I'd gone about a lot of things the wrong way," he replied, attempting to be more diplomatic. "I enjoy you," he appended. "I think you're sweet. I think there's a lot I can teach you. I think there's still a lot to learn about you. And somewhere down the line, maybe that translates into something more, but... it doesn't feel right to try and build something on such a rocky foundation right now." He shook his head again, feeling sad, feeling lost. He felt like he was breaking up with someone he was never dating in the first place. "I thought that went without saying," he went on, "but I guess I should've said it."

"Somewhere down the line..." She looked up at the ceiling now, trying to catch her tears from falling. But she couldn't stop the lump in her throat that had formed when she thought of what she'd learned in the previous few days. "How is that even possible," she posed in a wobbly voice, "when you're in love with someone else?"

Rick gave her that look again - the one that said he had no idea what she was talking about. "I lost my wife nearly a year ago," he submitted hoarsely. "There's still some grief there, I guess, but-"

"I'm not talking about your wife, Rick."

"Then what the hell are you talking about?"

She turned to him, studying the puzzled expression on his face, and then it dawned on her. "You don't even know," she marveled. Her tears fell hard then, because she knew this wasn't about deception, or him being too afraid to say the words. It was just plain bad luck that she figured it out before he did.

"Know what?" he pressed.

"I'm talking about Michonne," she said softly, almost feeling sorry for him now.

"Jessie…"

"You do this thing," she started to explain, her eyes flitting to the floor now. "You stare at her for way too long, and then you look away, like maybe you're worried she'll catch you. You did it just a few minutes ago," she pointed towards the door. "I saw it a few days ago too, and I swear, I never meant to watch you," she sniffled. "In fact, I was about to say hi, but I realized I was intruding on something. And I saw it, and I remember thinking to myself, 'I wish I had someone that looked at me like that.'" She chuckled ruefully, but tears were still streaming down her cheeks. "And it's weird. It's kind of heartbreaking, because I foolishly thought, at some point, it would be you. God knows Pete never did," she scoffed. "But… I saw you two on your back deck, and I dunno… It's funny how you can watch two people from afar, and just their mannerisms tell you they're in love. The way you held her. The way you made each other laugh." She sniffled again, covering her face with her hands as she recalled every minute detail of their conversation. "You looked at her like she was the sun," she remembered. "And she looked back at you like you were the stars. And I dunno, maybe you just kept missing each other; maybe you both thought the other was looking at the ground, but… it was clear as day to me. And I just felt so incredibly stupid for not seeing it before then." She glanced back at Rick, tears blurring her vision, but she could still make out the look of panic taking over his face. "Tell me I'm wrong," she said.

"You're wrong," he shot back without thinking. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

"You do," she whispered. "I'm not an idiot, Rick. I know what I saw. And I know how fucking bad it felt to see it, so please don't sit here and deny it."

"I'm not…" He let out a deep sigh, feeling lost for words at the moment. "I don't know what you think you saw, but… that's not," he shook his head, beginning to stammer out his incoherent thoughts. "M-michonne and I are very close. Maybe it's – maybe it's easy to mistake it for something else. But we're not in love."

"Fine," she sighed disbelievingly. "Maybe you're crazy, maybe I am. But I don't wanna be a third wheel in whatever you two have. It is obviously much deeper than whatever the hell you and I were doing."

"Jessie, we just met," he said quietly. "There's no reason we can't be close, too."

"There is a reason. And… she's downstairs right now." She wiped her face again, but kept her expression hidden. "I would like it if we could be friends at some point. But I think it's silly to pretend this can go anywhere else."

"Maybe so," he nodded sadly. He hated that he'd done anything to make her cry; especially when he hadn't really done anything. "I'm still always here if you need me."

"I appreciate that." She swallowed hard, and glanced around the room she had spent the night in just a few days prior. She should've known then that things weren't what they seemed, that he was just being nice; but she supposed her expectations had gotten the best of her. "Do you mind if I just sit here for a minute?" she grimaced. "I don't wanna be around a bunch of people right now."

"Of course," he nodded. He looked around the room, exhaling sharply. "Do you want me to stay?"

"No."

Rick wasn't sure what else to say. Whether there was anything else to say. The entire conversation had blindsided him, and his head was spinning, his stomach in knots. "I'll be downstairs then," he said.

He quickly disappeared from the room, but was slow to make his way back to the group. His mind was a mess of thoughts, all of them about Michonne and what Jessie said about her. The idea of being in love with her had never once crossed his mind. Did he care about her? Sure? Did he love her? Yes. She was someone he considered family. He was closer to her than anyone. But in love? That just wasn't possible. Was it?

Once he made it back to the living room, he found Michonne still engaged in her puzzle with the kids, but he managed to catch her eye, swallowing visibly when he did. She tilted her head at him curiously when she noted the strange look on his face. He looked scared, and it made her wonder where he'd been for the past five minutes.

"You okay?" she mouthed to him when he didn't stop looking at her.

Rick nodded back nervously, but he was fairly certain that that wasn't true. In fact, he was very much not okay.


	9. Herd

Rick yawned tiredly as he sat down on his bed for the first time in hours; the first time since his talk with Jessie. He was exhausted, having been on guard duty for the previous four hours, and to make matters worse, his mind was racing. He kept replaying everything Jessie said to him about Michonne, and it made his entire body tense. He couldn't stop thinking about how right she was, and how obtuse he was, not to have seen it for himself. How he'd managed to fall in love with his best friend and not even notice. And how he had no idea what to do with the information.

He was pulling off his shoes, seriously considering heading downstairs to talk to Michonne right then. But what would he say? Was now the right time? There were nearly twenty people in his house at the moment, so probably not. But he wasn't sure there would ever be a  _right_  time.

He sighed heavily as he climbed into his bed, hoping that a few hours of sleep would bring some clarity.

Carl, however, had been watching his father since he walked into the room, and it was clear that something was resting heavy on his mind. He wondered if it was the same thing that was keeping him from sleeping. "Dad," he called out to him in the quietest of whispers.

Rick turned his head towards the twin bed just across from his, not realizing his son had been awake. Those big blue eyes staring back at him. "What are you doin' up," he frowned.

"I couldn't sleep," he shrugged with one shoulder. "I keep thinking about it."

He knew that feeling all too well, figuring he wouldn't find much in the way of slumber with all the things on his mind. But he and Carl obviously weren't pondering the same thing at the moment. "Thinking about what?"

"The herd," Carl said, scrunching up his face. He wasn't sure there was anything else to think of. "It's gonna get in here and ruin this place."

Rick sighed again, and repositioned himself in his bed, lying on his side so that he was facing his son. He needed a temporary reprieve from the harshness of the day. "Everything's gonna be fine," he promised, looking him in the eye.

"You know I'm not a little kid anymore," Carl submitted, resting his hand underneath his cheek. "You can be straight with me about how bad it is."

"It's bad," he answered. "But I'm not telling you everything's gonna be okay because you're a kid. I'm telling you because I believe it. And I need you to believe it, too."

He stared back at his dad, wondering why he had so much anguish on his face then. He looked like he wanted to throw up. "You're not nervous?" he wondered.

"I am." Rick moved his right hand beneath his right cheek as well. "There's always somethin' scary about the unknown. But you were the one that reminded me, back in Georgia, whatever it is, we can get through it."

"I did say that, didn't I?" Carl recalled in a whisper. "Too late to take that back, huh?"

Rick offered a tired smile in reply. "You were right," he said. "We've survived everything we've been through."

"Somehow..."

"We're strong," he answered simply.

Carl nodded, his eyes glancing down to where Judith's crib was situated. He then looked back up at his dad. "Do you ever wonder what things would've been like if Mom had lived?"

Rick stared at his boy for much too long, wondering where he was headed with this conversation. "I do."

"I thought about it a lot after what happened with Joe," Carl confessed. "And Gareth."

"Why's that?"

"I just wonder what Mom would've thought about it. Would she have understood it? Would she have helped?"

"I don't know if your mother would've had the stomach to do what we did at the church," Rick considered with a small chuckle, his voice hoarse. "But I think she would've wanted me to do anything to protect you and Judith."

"Really?"

"Parents are strange that way."

Carl smiled in response. "I miss her a lot more now than I used to. I don't know why."

He felt similarly, especially when they'd first arrived to Alexandria. He was glad those strange feelings had faded since then, but he completely understood why Carl had them. "I did too," he admitted softly. "It's because this place reminds us of before. It's all so normal."

"Well, it was. Before the Wolves, before the walkers."

"Yeah..."

"But she would've liked it here," Carl knew.

He nodded against his pillow, still staring at his son intensely.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?" Rick unsuccessfully tried to stifle his yawn.

"You like Ron's mom, right?"

He took a deep breath, unsure of how to respond to that question without sounding like an asshole. "How do you mean?"

"I mean, you would date her, if that were still a thing. Right?"

"I don't know," he said a bit curtly, now feeling like an asshole anyway. "It's not somethin' I think about."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"I was just worried that we'd have to move out if things got serious with you guys. And I don't wanna leave Michonne."

"That's not gonna happen," Rick promised, his eyebrows raised to match his confident tone.

"Us moving out?"

"None of it. We're not going anywhere. I'm not gonna be dating Jessie. It's not something you need to worry about."

Carl's face wrinkled in confusion again, wondering what had changed all of a sudden. With his dad spending so much time with Jessie, and her spending the night at their house, the next step seemed inevitable. "It's not because of me and Ron, is it? Because we can find a way to get along," he offered. "You don't have to sacrifice your happiness for me."

Rick smiled at his son's graciousness, halfway wondering where he'd gotten it from. "It has nothing to do with you and Ron," he assured him quietly. "Though I do hope you two can be friends again one day."

"So then what happened?"

"Does it matter?"

Carl shook his head against his pillow, looking down again. "I just like to know what's going on with you."

He closed his eyes, both loving and hating that his son was so perceptive, so genuine about everything he said and did. Carl was turning into a great kid, despite his own foibles as a parent, and it made him so unbelievably proud. "I don't know what's going on with me," Rick declared honestly. "Jessie is a good person, and… maybe in another life, something could've worked there. But I think I've been headed in a different direction for a while now. And I didn't even realize it until tonight."

He stared back at his dad, unsure of what that truly meant, but he was relieved to know that he wouldn't have to leave his home. That Michonne and Carol and Daryl would still be their roommates. He nodded again, a small smile on his lips.

"Go to sleep," Rick directed in a whisper. "Tomorrow is gonna be a long day." He watched as Carl closed his eyes, and he couldn't help but study his son's cherubic face, even covered by all that hair, watching him just breathe until sleep came to claim him as well.

* * *

" _Rick? You there?_ "

The sound of Carol's voice shook Rick from his slumber, and he groggily pulled his walkie-talkie from his waistband. "I'm here," he told her once he quickly found his bearings. "What's wrong?"

" _We need you up here_ ," she said calmly. " _With Denise_."

It took him a moment to recall that Denise was their new doctor, but once he did, panic began to set in. He shot up from his bed and immediately stepped outside, so as not to wake his kids. "What happened," he demanded.

" _Abe_ ," she revealed after a short pause. " _He just got bit_."

"Fuck!" he hissed to himself, his forehead already breaking into a cold sweat. "Where's the bite," he asked Carol.

" _His arm_ ," she said, still cool as ever. " _I just amputated it, but he needs medical attention immediately, and it cannot be Rosita_."

He nodded to himself, headed down the stairs already. "I'll get her there."

" _Be careful_ ," she warned. " _It's bad out there_."

Rick already figured that had to be the case if Abraham had managed to get bitten. That man was a force to be reckoned with, especially where walkers were concerned. "I'll get her there," he repeated with finality.

He glanced out to the dark streets of Alexandria, where walkers dotted the streets, roaming aimlessly around his neighborhood. And inside his home, sleeping bags dotted the floors, most of the inhabitants fast asleep and oblivious to the fact that they were truly under attack, yet again.

Rick was thankful to spot Michonne retreating from the kitchen, and he gestured for her to head back into it while he carefully stepped through the minefield of slumbering neighbors to meet her there. She had a glass of water in her hand and a grimace on her face as he came into view.

"Doesn't look too good out there," she commented, figuring he wanted to discuss the herd.

"Listen, I've gotta get to the front," he announced, knowing he had no time to waste. "Abraham's been bit."

Her eyes widened in concern, hoping he was joking for some reason. "What?"

"Carol says it was an arm. She got it off, but..."

She knew they were both thinking of Tyreese, and her expression instantly fell to one of gloom. "Shit."

"We've got a doctor," he reminded her, trying to be optimistic for himself as well. "I have to get her to the infirmary."

She nodded, understanding that she couldn't argue with him about safety right now. All of the options were drying up, and they had to do what they had to do. "You need me to cover you?"

"You're still injured," he said, as if she didn't know.

"If I can walk, I can help."

"No," he answered emphatically. He didn't even want to think about Michonne limping out there with those monsters.

"Rick..."

"I won't know what's really out there until I take Denise," he said, looking her in the eye for the first time that night. "But I need you here. I hate throwing this at you, but I need you to take care of Judith."

"You know you don't have to ask that," she answered in a whisper, looking him in the eye right back. "If your kids are with me, they're safe."

"I know," he nodded, wanting to say so much more. Wishing he had the time to say everything that was on his mind. He tiredly ran his hand over his face, looking towards the door. "I should go," he declared hesitantly. "Keep your radio on."

She offered a small, worried smile in reply. "Please be careful."

* * *

Hours later, as daylight approached, the herd had only gotten worse inside the gates. Residents began to stir, realizing that their streets were filled with corpses ambling across their yards. Carl had been sitting on his coffee table, staring out of the front window, when Ron came to join him.

"What's the point of having walls," the older teenager commented, peering out to the scary scene.

"You should keep your voice down," Carl answered in a low voice.

"They can't really hear us in here, can they?"

"I don't know," he shrugged sincerely. "But there are too many of them out there to take chances."

With a sigh, Ron took a seat beside his frenemy, and the two of them silently stared at everything happening right outside their door. He had never seen so many of them at once, and it was almost mesmerizing to him. "This is what it's like out there?" he whispered.

"Not usually," Carl admitted, looking down at his hands. "Every home I've ever had has been overrun, but I've still never seen anything like this before."

"So basically, we're fucked."

Carl couldn't help but softly chuckle at Ron's assessment. "Basically."

"Boys," Jessie called out to both Ron and Carl, "get away from the window."

Carl turned back to her with a frown. "They can't see us."

"Are you  _sure_?"

"I'm positive," he said, turning back to the window. "They can only see light."

"This is all so confusing," she sighed, rubbing her face. "Where's your dad?"

"He had to go," was all he said. That was all he knew.

The three of them watched from the living room as one walker in particular began to come towards the house, and Jessie began to panic. "What is he doing," she demanded, backing away.

Morgan and Ethan moved towards the front door to get a view of what she was so worried about, seeing the one walker circling the house for reasons no one could discern.

"Just stay quiet and it'll go away," Carl explained in a loud whisper.

"You said they couldn't see us," Jessie pressed. "He can obviously see us."

"It's not a 'he,' and it can't see." He was getting more frustrated by the second that he was stuck in a room with so many idiots.

"It's obviously attracted to us by something," Ethan declared, equally as concerned as Jessie. "We need to get rid of it, before it attracts the others."

Morgan agreed, but it seemed they were just as likely to attract attention if they went outside. "I don't know if we should open this door."

"Then what do we do," Spencer piped up from the corner window.

"Nothing," Carl answered. "Just sit here and be quiet."

"Where are some adults," Tobin asked, walking towards the small group with his daughter in tow. "Why are we relying on the instructions of a child?"

"The 'adults' are out there taking care of the threat," Ron cut in on Carl's behalf. "Unless you wanna go out there and help, maybe we should just shut up."

Carl rolled his eyes and shot up from his seat, completely irritated by the discussion. "I'm gonna go get Michonne."

He quickly and quietly trudged up the stairs towards Michonne's room, where she was walking around in circles with Judith, both trying to keep the baby calm, and give her leg some exercise. "Hey," she tried to smile at Carl when he appeared in her doorway.

"Everyone downstairs is freaking out," he declared with a sigh. "Could you tell them to just stay quiet and we'll be fine?"

Michonne simultaneously chuckled and frowned at him as she took another glance out of the window. "I know you're frustrated, but you have to remember that they've never done anything like this before."

"Which is why they should listen to me when I tell them something."

She knew she couldn't defend them there, so she only shrugged. "I can give it a try."

"Have you heard from my dad?" he asked as they moved towards the door.

"Not since he got to the front with Dr. Denise." She ran her hand over Carl's head as she followed him to the steps. "Daryl said Abraham is all right, but… it sounds like things are even worse outside the gates."

"Well, what else is new," he smiled back sadly.

The three of them set off to join the others, but as they headed down the steps, a gunshot went off, in extremely close proximity to the house. Michonne and Carl went rushing into the kitchen where the rest of the group had convened, and Ethan was stepping back inside from the back porch, toting his gun.

Morgan immediately stepped out of his typically placid demeanor, grabbing Ethan by the collar and throwing him against the kitchen counter. "What did you just do!" he demanded angrily.

He held up his hands, baffled as to why Morgan was in such a frenzy. "I took care of the walker."

"You just killed us," Michonne said calmly, hobbling back towards the living room to get a view of outside. Already, a throng of walkers were headed straight for them. She carefully held Judith with one hand while she pulled out her walkie-talkie.

"I was trying to help," Ethan called out to her, and convince the others. "I got rid of the threat."

"You created a threat," Morgan quipped, not backing down. "You think I couldn't have shot that thing myself? Walkers are attracted to noise, first and foremost, and you just rang the damn dinner bell."

Ethan stared back at him, stupefied, with his mouth hanging open. "I-I didn't know," he shook his head.

"This is why you come to training when you're told," Michonne stated plainly as she walked towards the middle of the room. "We're gonna have to evacuate."

"What?"

"Shut up," she said, pulling her radio to her lips. She needed to formulate a plan and execute it within a matter of minutes. "We've got a big problem back here," she said into the walkie-talkie.

Once again, it was Carol that was the one to reply. " _I'm guessing it has to do with the gunshot we just heard_."

"They're headed straight for us," Michonne confirmed. "They'll tear the house down if we stay."

" _I'll send Rick and Daryl back your way_."

"All right." She sighed heavily, looking around her full house for any sign or clue of how to get all those people out of it. There was only one option. "Tell them to bring a few dead walkers with them," she added. "We're gonna need camouflage."

" _Copy that_ ," Carol finished.

With that, Michonne turned back to the large group she was now responsible for keeping alive, her entire body clenched in fear. "Listen up," she called out to them, speaking as softly and as quickly as she could. "We have to get out of here, and we have to do it fast." She was speaking the plan into existence as she thought of it. "We're splitting into groups of four. Two groups will go out of the front, and two groups will go out of the back."

"We're gonna just leave," Spencer asked, a bit loud in his panic.

She looked at Carl, knowing he was probably the only one in the room that would understand her strategy. "We're gonna cover ourselves in walker remains. It will mask us from the walkers so that we can get past them." Predictably, she received several looks of trepidation in response, from everyone but Carl, Morgan, and Enid.

"That doesn't sound safe," Jessie said, clutching her youngest son's hand. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm positive."

"My dad has done it before," Carl informed her, figuring that would give her some reassurance on the matter. "Michonne, Glenn, Carol. It always works."

She glanced at him and offered a nervous nod.

"Carl, I need you to run upstairs and bring me all the sheets you can find," she instructed before looking to the rest of the group. "I know this is scary," she said. "But we don't have time to be scared. You've gotta put on your adult pants today, because I've got an actual baby to get out of here, and I cannot coddle you."

"You're asking a lot here," Tobin inserted from the back of the group. "We can't just magically be like you all."

"Well today, you've gotta try," she answered bluntly. "We've gotta pretend we're dead." Michonne looked around the room, all their terrified faces staring back at her, and she wished she had something better to tell them. But the fact was, it was time to either fight or die, and that was all she had. And she remembered being in that barn a few weeks back, all of them on their last legs as Rick told that story about his grandfather. And his words rang in her ears like a gong at that moment –  _Rest in peace. Now get up and go to war._ "This is how we survive," she told them. "We do what we need to do. And then we get to live."

* * *

_The storm is coming, but I don't mind_  
_People are dying, I close my blinds  
_ _All that I know is I'm breathing now_

It took a bit longer than Michonne wanted, but within fifteen minutes, they were all dressed and ready to head out. She was the last to get herself doused in walker guts, as she had the extra daunting task of protecting Judith, too. The baby was strapped to her chest in a sling, and they were both covered in a raincoat, before Rick draped the sheet of walker remains over them. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take her?" Rick asked for the third time in ten minutes.

She had run out of ways to tell him that he needed to be unrestricted so that he could fight. This was the best task for her, given her injury. "I'm positive."

He nodded, heading for the group he'd been assigned to escort toward the front – Carl, Jessie, Ron, and Sam. The five of them would head out first, with Michonne and Judith just behind them, along with Mikey, Enid, and Spencer.

"Everybody got a weapon?" he asked his group.

"Sam doesn't," Jessie winced, shaking her head. "I actually feel better with Ron having my gun, but Sam having a knife just... I can't."

"Keep him close to you," Rick instructed her seriously. "Don't pull out your weapon unless absolutely necessary," he told Carl and Ron. "Stay silent, walk slow, and if I tell you to run, you run for your life, you got it?"

The four of them nodded in compliance, and with that, Rick slowly swung the door of his home open, silently hoping it would still be there the next day. Together, the five of them moved down the steps, Rick and Carl flanking Jessie and her boys as they ambled into the dense crowd of walkers surrounding the home. They successfully made it to the sidewalk together, and Jessie was pleasantly surprised that the plan actually seemed to be working quite well. The walkers weren't paying them any attention at all.

Rick turned his head slightly, seeing that Michonne and her group were just behind them, doing just as well, it seemed. It gave him hope that Daryl and Morgan's groups were equally as fine, over in the backyard.

"Mom," Sam quietly called out to his mother. "I don't feel so good."

"Shh," she said, tightening her grip on his hand. "We're almost there."

They weren't almost there, but Rick appreciated that Jessie knew to lie to him. He gave her a nod of encouragement as they continued down the crowded street.

"The smell is making me sick," Sam declared.

"Stop talking and breathe through your mouth," she commanded through gritted teeth.

They continued to walk, but Sam had begun to slow them down, and Michonne's group was gaining on them. "Sam, I need you to walk just a little faster," Rick whispered over to the youngster. "We're getting there."

"Dude, come on," Ron hissed at him as well, taking his brother's hand. "We got this."

They only made it a few more feet before Sam had to stop altogether, bending over to hurl in the middle of the street. It brought the entire group to a halt, while oncoming walkers homed in on the noise and the distinct new smell.

Rick pulled out his machete, knowing that their plan was already ruined, and looked to the older boys. "Carl, Ron, I need you to run."

"What about you?" Carl asked worriedly. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his father in this mess.

"We'll be fine," Rick promised, unsure whether that were true. "Go!"

Once the boys were out of sight, he turned to make sure that Michonne and Judith were still far enough away to not be spotted. But he turned back to Jessie just in time to see her trying to save her son from a walker. It had lunged at Sam, swiftly pulling him to the ground, and nearly taking Jessie with him.

"Sam!" Jessie screamed, trying to pull her son back. But another walker came in, and he was out of her sight before she knew it. All she could see was blood, and all she could hear were her son's blood-curdling screams. "Sam!" she cried, trying to pull the corpses off of him.

"Jessie, we have to go," Rick declared, making his best attempt at pulling her back instead.

"That's my son!"

"I know," he nodded, feeling devastated for her loss. "But we have to go." He knew that they were on the verge of ruining Michonne and the kids' pathway to the gates, and they needed to move before they were swarmed themselves. "We can't help him."

Jessie didn't know how she was supposed to abandon her son like this. And Rick didn't know how to make her, so he simply went into action, killing every walker he could within their small space.

_I want to save the world_  
_Instead, I sleep  
_ _I want to believe in more than you and me_

As Sam's screams finally came to a heartbreaking halt, Jessie wiped her tears and pulled herself up from the ground, understanding that she needed to get to her other son. She searched for Rick in the crowd, but it seemed that he had blended into herd, and she instantly felt lost and alone.

It was Enid who approached from behind, and softly called out to her boyfriend's mother. "Mrs. Anderson."

Dazed and confused, Jessie turned back to the teenager, staring down at her outstretched hand. "What?"

"You can come with me," Enid offered encouragingly.

"I'm right here," Michonne added from just behind them. "You just have to walk."

With tears still streaming down her face, Jessie gratefully reached out to take Enid's hand, only to be snatched back by an aggressive walker having latched onto her other arm. Instead, she managed to catch Enid's clothing, grabbing her walker cloak and practically pulling it off in her attempt to stay upright.

Michonne immediately stepped in to save the teenager, but the walker had sunk its teeth into Jessie's right arm, and her left hand had desperately pulled off Enid's sheet altogether. She blindly grabbed at Michonne, clutching at her while trying to pull her other hand from the rotting monster.

"Enid, run," Michonne calmly instructed, knowing she would be sure to attract even more attention without her cloak. "Don't stop until you get to Deanna's."

She nodded and took off, while Mikey and Spencer continued their camouflaged stroll, unsure of what to do. Jessie was fighting for her life, holding onto Michonne, and by extension, Judith, as she did. And as Michonne tried to wrestle out of her grasp, the baby began to cry. She understood why, knowing how uncomfortable Judith had to be, but she was inwardly praying for the infant to stop crying. Outwardly begging for Jessie to let her go.

"Please," Michonne pleaded, tears flooding her face as she watched this woman slowly die. Her entire body began to shake at the thought of letting anything happen to Judith. She knew she would cut this woman's arm off before letting another of her children die. Even if Judith wasn't  _hers_ , Judith was hers. "Let me go," she begged, trying to peel Jessie's bloody grip from her wrist. It was unfathomable that she was able to hold on so tight, but desperation had made her stronger than ever, it seemed.

"I'm so scared," Jessie cried, shaking her head.

"I know." Michonne was crying too, hating that it had come to this. But walkers were closing in on them, and she needed to get out of there. "But I need you to let me go."

"I can't." She held on even tighter, unable to see from all the tears in her eyes. "Don't leave me."

Another walker had gotten a hold of her, and Michonne knew she simply could not wait any longer. Not when she had Judith. "I'm so sorry," she said, wiping her tears. She began to pull her sword from its sheath, but before she knew it, Rick had pushed through the chaotic scene to come to the rescue.

His eyes were on Michonne, seeing the despair all over her face as she glanced back at him. Noting the walkers headed their way, hearing his daughter's cries, there were no questions that needed to be asked. He was in tears as he used his machete to make a clean slice through Jessie's left arm, separating her from Michonne, once and for all. He covered his mouth with his arm, and closed his eyes to avoid the gruesome sight of her being devoured.

"Rick!" he could hear her muffled scream and he nearly lost his will to keep moving.

Michonne grabbed his arm, trying to pull his focus back. She could feel him unraveling, and she wanted to catch him before he came completely undone. "Rick," she said softly.

He nodded, knowing he would have to cover her and Judith on their way to the front. "I got you," he promised.

She nodded back, understanding his tears, knowing that he understood hers, but that they'd done what they had to do. "I know."

_All that I know is I'm breathing_  
_All I can do is keep breathing  
_ _All we can do is keep breathing now_

* * *

"Where the hell are our parents," Ron wondered.

He and Carl had made it safely to the RV at the front gates, trying to get a view of the crazy scene that had taken over their home. Carl knew that something bad had likely happened, given how long things were taking, but he decided against telling Ron that. "Maybe they went into another house," he offered, knowing it was a lame explanation.

"And they're just gonna leave us out here?"

"Let's just wait a few more minutes before we panic." The two of them continued to silently survey the scene, until a figure emerged from the walker crowd wielding a knife and a navy blue hoodie. "Is that Enid?" Carl questioned, standing from his seat.

Ron stood as well, trying to get a better look, deciding that it was definitely her - he'd given her his jacket that very morning. "Where the hell's her camo?"

Carl sighed, pulling his Beretta from his belt. "Something bad happened."

"You're not going out there, are you?"

"She has nothing but a knife," Carl frowned, thinking that answer should have been obvious. "I'm just gonna cover her."

"I'll come with you then."

"Did you learn to shoot in the time we stopped being friends?"

"I took some training," Ron submitted, annoyed that he constantly had to answer to someone younger than him. "We're wasting time."

That was one thing Carl could agree with him on, and exited the RV without thinking too much more about it. Enid had gotten caught by a walker much bigger than her, making it nearly impossible for her to kill with just her knife. So it was Carl that stopped in his tracks, successfully taking the giant corpse down with his first shot. He continued to shoot them down with his silenced pistol, clearing a path for his friend, while Ron continued towards her, unsure of how else to help.

"Enid!" he called out to get her attention. "We're in the RV!"

"Stop yelling!" she shouted back, taking down another walker.

He decided to mimic Carl, since she seemed okay with his role in the melee, and began to shoot at walkers. But his handgun wasn't silenced, and the shots were louder than ever.

"Stop shooting the fucking gun," Enid yelled again. "Are you crazy!"

Frustrated by the fact that she was berating him for helping, he belligerently continued to use his gun, attempting to shoot walkers in their path back to the RV. He had even gotten a few head shots in, but the noise had, indeed, gotten him noticed, and even with his cloak of guts, one of the walkers took a dive for his neck. He let out one final shot before he went down, much in the same way his mother and brother had – screaming in agony.

Enid felt like she was watching a movie as both her friends went falling to the ground at the same time. Ron, at the hands of a walker, and Carl, at the hands of Ron. He'd been shot. "What the fuck," she whispered to herself, her breathing beginning to quicken. She felt utterly helpless for the first time in a long time, hearing her boyfriend dying, and having to ignore it in order to get to her best friend. She couldn't save Ron, but maybe she could do something for Carl. She needed to be able to save Carl.

As quickly as she could, she slipped through the remaining walkers, most of them likely smelling Ron's fresh body, and found Carl lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. He'd been shot in the chest, and Enid didn't have the first clue on what to do. She needed to get him out of there, and fast. "Help!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, tears blurring her vision. "I need help!"

Enid held her hand over Carl's chest, trying to keep pressure on the wound, but pulled back when it seemed as though he'd stopped breathing. She was at a loss, and all she could do was cry, and try to keep walkers away.

_All that I know is I'm breathing  
_ _All I can do is keep breathing_

"What the hell happened," a voice said from behind her.

She turned back, thankful that an adult had appeared, but her optimism fell when she realized it was Ethan. The most clueless adult in all of Alexandria. "He got shot," she cried, wiping her face, inadvertently wiping his blood over her. "Where is everyone?"

"They're fighting walkers," he answered, out of breath as he bent down over Carl. He carefully began to take the boy into his arms as Enid watched.

"What are you gonna do?"

"You're gonna get me to the infirmary," he nodded to his left, towards where their makeshift hospital was situated.

"But…"

"I can't fight these things, but I can do this," he declared, standing with Rick's injured son in his arms. "Come on."

_All we can do is keep breathing now_

* * *

"Rick!"

Ethan's wife, Susan, had been waiting outside the infirmary, waiting for a sign of Rick, Carol, or Michonne. She finally spotted him coming down from Deanna's home, clearly in a frenzy as he searched for Carl.

His emotions were already on edge, but he was ready to put a bullet through this woman's head just for calling his name so loudly. He really didn't have time for whatever problem she'd concocted once she found a safe space. He held up his hands, letting her know that he couldn't deal with her at the moment.

"It's Carl," she yelled out to him. "He's here."

The sound of her voice told him that he wouldn't like whatever information followed. He had to shake away the thoughts of his son being bitten, and he made his way across the street, where Susan was waiting at the entrance of the infirmary. He nearly dropped his weapons as he pushed past her and headed into the small, clean house. There, he found Ethan and Enid standing in the middle of the floor, while Denise stood over a bed, working on someone he couldn't see.

"Is that Carl," he asked, his voice breaking as he spoke.

Ethan was the first to turn to him, his shirt covered in blood. "Rick…"

"What did you do," he demanded, drawing his gun on the man already.

"I swear to god," he held up his hands for the second time that day. "I just brought him over here."

"It was Ron," Enid revealed, her face still full of Carl's blood and her tears. "He got taken down and he just hit him by accident…"

Rick couldn't even process that much information at that moment. He just went to his son, and his heart sank to his feet when he took him in. The tears came hard and fast as he stared at him, laying there pale and unconscious, with a hole in the right side of his chest. "Carl," he said in a hoarse, heartbroken whisper, taking his lifeless hand.

_All we can do is keep breathing_

Denise placed a soft hand on Rick's shoulder, and offered her warmest gaze. "Rick, he's gonna need some space right now."

He nodded, but didn't back away until he kissed his son's hand, his tears falling everywhere as he did. He wasn't sure what to do with himself, walking in circles around the large room, his hands on his hips as he tried to remind himself to breathe. He'd spent all night in that room with Abraham, but now, it felt suffocating. He wasn't entirely sure he wasn't going to pass out.

_All we can do is keep breathing_

"Rick, is there anything we can do?" Susan asked in her best attempt to be comforting. "Send a message up to Deanna's maybe?"

He stared at her, bewildered for a moment, as if she were speaking a foreign language, the words taking a while to process. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion. He nodded again, slowly, as his brain allowed words to come out of his mouth. "Michonne," was all he said, his eyes darting around the bright room. He didn't want to drop this in her lap, but she needed to know. And he needed her, he knew. "I need you to get Michonne."

"Okay," Susan nodded, glancing at her husband. "We'll go get her then."

_All we can do is keep breathing_

Rick watched with bated breath as Denise poked and prodded his son, and he felt like he was having a cruel case of déjà vu. Watching helplessly as he relied on some stranger to save his kid's life after being shot. What kind of fate would allow that to happen twice in one lifetime? After he'd just witnessed Jessie and her son – two people he vowed to protect – die horrifically on his watch. And while his home was taken over by monsters, he would have to sit by idly while his son was on the edge of death. How was he supposed to do that?

* * *

With the help of Glenn and Morgan, Michonne was able to make it down to the infirmary within a matter of minutes. And though no one would tell her why she was being summoned, she instinctively knew that it was either Rick or Carl that needed her. And then she walked into that house, that hospital room, it dawned on her that it was both of them.

_All we can do is keep breathing_

She felt her stomach drop at the sight of Carl in that bed, the doctor hovering over him. His shirt was balled up in a corner chair, soaked with blood. An oxygen mask covered his face, while Denise covered his chest. And tears rushed down Michonne's cheeks as she moved towards him, almost scared to get a closer look. "What happened?" she whispered, softly running her hand along his chin once she approached. He looked so pale, so frail.

Denise shook her head, hating that his loved ones had to keep hearing this news. "He was shot. Accidentally, I believe."

Michonne's face wrinkled with more tears as she took Carl's limp hand into her own. "How bad is it?"

"I'm not entirely sure," she admitted. "There's no exit wound, so I won't know until I get the bullet out."

She nodded, taking in the information as best she could, but she felt her head spinning. "Where's Rick?"

"He should be in the back getting washed up, so he can give Carl some blood." Denise gestured towards the other side of the room, where Rosita was setting up a chair and getting supplies in order.

Michonne ran her thumb along Carl's hand, not wanting to let go, but knowing she needed to check on Rick. After what happened with Sam and Jessie, and now this, she was certain that he was barely standing. "Can I go back there?" she asked the doctor.

"Of course."

With a nod, she bent down to give Carl's hand a soft kiss, and then made her way towards the back room. She could hear water running, but as she entered the small room, she found Rick kneeled on the bathroom floor, his face buried in his hands. It made her even sadder to see that he was quite literally not even standing.

_All we can do is keep breathing_

"Rick," Michonne called out to him softly. She hoped he wasn't physically hurt too, as there wasn't much more she could take from this day.

He looked up at her, his eyes full of tears and regret. He closed them as he pictured his son out there in that bed. "Carl…"

"I know," she whispered, carefully lowering herself to the floor to join him. She took off her sword and placed it off to the side before wrapping her arms around him, pulling him into her embrace. She ran her hand along his back, her fingers through his hair, and she did her best to console him as he squeezed her body tightly. "Everything is gonna be okay," she said. Her tears were falling hard, because she didn't know if that was true. She didn't even know how to process what happened to Jessie, and now Carl, and still believe that. "I don't know..."

_All we can do is keep breathing_

"It keeps happening," he croaked out, his voice nearly silent. He fell out of their embrace and rested his head in Michonne's lap, letting his sobs take over. Letting his vulnerability out on full display. He didn't care how it looked; he was just glad she was there.

Michonne continued to rub his back, but her heart was breaking for him, for Carl, for herself. She was out of words. She was out of hope. Why  _did_  this keep happening? It no longer felt like they were  _pretending_ to be dead. When was it that they would get to live?

"I'm so sorry," was all she could say. And she leaned over, offering a soft kiss to the top of his head, as there was nothing else she could do either. She simply let him cry. And she cried, too.

_All we can do is keep breathing now_


	10. Opened

Carol had been to the infirmary more times than she could count in two days, and each time she walked in, she found Rick and Michonne in the same positions she'd left them in - sitting at Carl's bedside, right next to one another. Sometimes, Rick would be holding his son's arm, or Michonne's hand rested on his leg, but they didn't vary much outside of that. She would bring Judith over a few times a day, which lifted their spirits ever-so-slightly, and she always came bearing food, and offers to watch Carl while they got some rest, but it seemed that the two of them had resolved to make themselves miserable until Carl woke up.

On that particular evening, as she brought in dinner for the grieving duo, she was relieved to find that Rick was at least resting his head on Carl's bed. His eyes were even closed, giving the illusion that he might have actually been getting some sleep.

Carol tiptoed inside, beginning to quietly set up their dinner plates on the nearest counter, while Michonne watched gratefully. People had been in and out of the infirmary almost nonstop, offering their support and their consolation, even when she and Rick didn't have words to say in return. And it was Carol who came by repeatedly, in the midst of all her other duties, just to check on things, and Michonne was moved by how genuinely kind their entire family was. She'd always known it – from the literal day she met the group at the prison, watching as Rick reunited with Carol - but to actually feel it was something else entirely.

"Thank you," she called out to Carol in a whisper, not wanting to wake Rick from his first nap all day. "You really don't have to do this, you know."

"Nonsense," Carol whispered back. "We've been through this before. I know he wouldn't eat otherwise, and you probably wouldn't either."

"I would make him eat," Michonne promised, glancing at Rick with a small smile. He had just given his son two pints of blood, after all. "But it's nice that I don't really have to."

"I wish you two would come home for a bit. Get a shower, get some sleep."

"Can't leave," she declined, her eyes darting up to Carl's precious face now. "Not-"

"Not until he wakes up," Carol nodded knowingly, having heard it several times from Michonne and Rick by now. "I probably wouldn't leave either, if I were you," she admitted. "I just want you two to take care of yourselves. After everything that's happened, you can't afford not to."

"I just don't wanna miss it," Michonne explained simply, still studying Carl in all his frailty. "If he wakes up, Rick  _has_  to be here.  _I_  have to be here."

"I understand," she promised, walking towards the three of them now. She placed a comforting hand on Michonne's shoulder as she gazed over at Rick and Carl. She remembered the first time Carl had gotten shot, and her mind glossed past a thought of Sophia. And then Sam… "I should get back out there," she said, referring to the cleanup process going on inside the walls. "But you better use that walkie-talkie if you need anything at all."

Michonne smiled at her insistence. "I will."

"Good."

She watched as Carol disappeared from the room, and then turned back to Carl, her eyes scanning his entire body for the millionth time. He wasn't even breathing on his own, but it still relieved her to see the rise and fall of his chest. To feel the warmth of his body when she rested her hand on him. It gave her small spurts of hope when she thought about the fact that he was still there. There was still a chance. Not like Andre. Not like Sam and Jessie and Ron. Carl could come back from this, and she truly believed he would. She had no reason to believe he wouldn't. The bullet was gone. Major veins and arteries were in tact. Minor head trauma from the impact of hitting the ground when he was shot, but nothing unfixable. And once again, she could hear Rick's voice echoing in her mind.  _You get to come back_. With all the sadness surrounding them, she just needed to be reminded of that. They could all come back from this.

With a small sigh, Michonne went to the counter, figuring a few bites of food would help to quiet her stomach rumblings. She hadn't eaten or slept or spoken a whole lot in two days, and it was beginning to take its toll on her body. That cold, empty feeling of death was creeping up on her, and she needed to push it back down.

Rick stirred from his light slumber when he felt Michonne move away from him, her nearly silent footsteps padding across the room. "Where are you going?" he mumbled into Carl's sheets, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Just right here," she assured him, uncovering her plate of warm spaghetti. She tiredly leaned against the counter for support as she unwrapped her silverware, too. "You should eat."

He hesitantly pulled up from the bed with his own drained sigh, gazing across the room at her. "I'm not hungry."

"That's okay." She slid the second spaghetti plate into his view and nodded for him to join her. "You should still eat."

"Is that another one from Susan?"

"Carol."

"She came by?" he asked, picking himself up from the chair he'd been practically glued to. "She bring Judith?"

"Just the food," Michonne shook her head. "You just missed her."

He nodded as he pulled the foil from his dinner for the night, silently delving into the pasta while staring out of the window of the infirmary. It was a perfect view of the messy streets of their home, covered in corpses, new and old. He was relieved, of course, that they made it through the herd, mostly alive, but the losses they did suffer were plaguing him. Haunting him. He felt like he could actually see Jessie and Sam in that street, and he closed his eyes, trying to block out the image.

"You don't have to be afraid of what's out there," Michonne said, noting the anguish on his face. "We're still here, Rick."

"Yeah," he exhaled heavily, avoiding looking out of the window again as he took another small bite of his food. "We are."

She could tell that he wasn't only worried about Carl, but his regrets about what happened to Jessie and her family were taking their toll on him. And she wished she knew how to make him talk about it, but the subject of Jessie was touchier now than ever before. She took a deep breath, and hoped that maybe she could relate to him on another level.

"About seven years ago, as I'm sure you probably remember, Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans," she began to tell him, pushing her half full plate to the side. "I just happened to be down there for the week, getting ready for a family reunion, and we heard about the storms coming. My grandmother, the wonderful, overbearing soul that she was,  _refused_  to let us leave. 'Y'all not gon' be drivin' in that storm,'" Michonne recalled with a small chuckle, affecting her grandmother's strong New Orleans accent. Rick smiled at her impression, too, enjoying the way she could make him feel better so simply. "So we all stayed at her house. Me; my boyfriend, Mike; my sister and her boyfriend; my parents, uncles, cousins. All of us in these two fairly small houses, right across the street from one another. It was very much like the scene here, a couple of nights ago."

Rick stared at her intently as she told her story, in disbelief that she had actually been through something like this twice.

"To make a long story short, things got bad very quickly, and we had to evacuate. And my grandmother's husband, not my granddad, but her second husband, was in a wheelchair..."

"That must've slowed you down."

"To say the least." She shook her head as she recalled the details of that horrific week. "When the levees broke? There might as well have been a million walkers roaming the city, because we were literally on the verge of drowning. And we're trying to get out, trying to get to higher ground, and this poor man... he was helpless. My dad was trying to carry him through this waist-deep, disgusting water." Her face and her hands were contorting descriptively as she spoke. "He was doing everything he could to save his mom's husband. And at some point, they got so far behind, my grandma turned back to my dad and said to just leave him."

Rick's mouth dropped in shock, his tired eyes widening at the twist in the story.

"She was heartbroken by it," Michonne nodded. "But even at seventy-something, her son was probably fifty-five at the time, that parental instinct kicked in. And she wasn't - she couldn't let anything happen to him. She wasn't going to let him die trying to save someone else, even if it was her husband."

"So what did your dad do?"

"He let him go," she whispered, closing her eyes. "It was devastating. And I won't lie, it fucked with me for a long time. I don't know if I understood it fully until years later."

"What made you understand it?"

"Just… life experience," she shrugged, unsure whether she wanted to delve into the fact that having a child of her own was what did it. "And even then," she went on, "the epiphany of 'I would've done the same thing' didn't happen until a couple of months ago," she revealed, her voice lowering. "When I saw you do what you did to Joe, everything just sort of clicked into place. That moment of desperation for your child will send you to places you never thought you'd go. And it doesn't matter how old they are, how capable they are, how much it hurts to do it." She paused as she let her words wash over him, hoping that he understood what she was trying to say. Hoping that he would believe her when she said it. She looked him in the eye as she finished, "What happened to Jessie wasn't your fault, Rick."

He looked back at her, searching her face, looking for something he couldn't quite pinpoint. A sign that she was lying, maybe. Just telling him what she thought he needed to hear. "You tellin' me your grandmother had no regrets about that?"

"Regrets?" Michonne shook her head. "Not at all." She leaned against the counter, needing to get away from his questioning gaze. "She didn't like it, she certainly felt it deeply. And she was Catholic, so you know how much they love to feel guilty. But I always got the impression that, if it happened again, she would've done exactly the same thing."

Rick exhaled heavily and glanced back to Carl in his bed. "I dunno if I can say that," he returned. "I just keep thinkin' about how maybe Carl's in that bed, fighting for his life because I didn't protect Jessie and her boys. I didn't keep my promise."

Michonne looked up at him sympathetically, still wishing she had something other than words to offer him. "You shouldn't think like that."

He returned his gaze to the window again, distractedly staring out of it. He could see Glenn and Maggie hauling dead bodies across the street, and he wondered how many times they'd done that in the past two days. "The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children," he noted with a quiet sigh.

"Stop it," she demanded. "You didn't kill her, Rick. She was already gone, and was about to take me and Judith with her. You saved your daughter, because that's what a parent does."

He turned towards her, wishing she could read his mind so that he wouldn't have to say it. "And you."

"What?" she quipped.

"I saved Judith, yes," he granted, catching her eye once more. "But I saved you, too. And I would've done it even if you hadn't had Judith."

"Oh..."

The information hung in the air for a full minute of awkward silence before Rick spoke again. "I saw the look on your face as you were taking out your sword. You didn't wanna do it. And I didn't want you to," he confessed, his sad blue eyes flitting to the floor. "I knew you could save Judith on your own, but I didn't want you to have that on your conscience." He was scared to look back up at her, so he closed his eyes instead. "And I don't think I would've done that for anyone else."

She tilted her head, studying his expression for as long as she could. "You would've."

"I don't know, Michonne. Maybe. But now it's in my mind, and it's festering. I look at Carl, and I just can't help but think that I did this to him. The course of events that led us here…"

"You're his dad, so I understand that it's hard to see logic, when all you feel is pain, but… blaming yourself isn't the answer to this."

He looked up, nodding, but he could no longer hear her. There was too much going on inside his head. He felt himself lean against the counter, but before he knew it, he had slid down to the floor, and his head was pounding. He could only see Carl's feet from that position. And he remembered when those feet fit in his hands, and now, they were practically bigger than his own. Where did the time go?

"Being a parent is so..." His words trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to say there.  _Stupid_  was the first thing to cross his mind, but that only partially expressed his thoughts. "You've gotta be insane," he finally said.

Michonne wasn't sure what was happening, or why he was on the floor, but she didn't hesitate to take a seat next to him, both of them resting their backs against the cabinet doors. "It's scary," she said, looking at him, attempting a comforting smile. "It's hard."

"Talk about wearing your heart on your sleeve. It's watching your heart walk around outside your body, and it's terrifying," he shook his head.

Michonne reached out to rest her hand on his thigh. "You know what kind of father you are, Rick. You don't get to question that because of this."

"I always questioned it," he admitted, glancing down at her hand on him. "Whether having Carl was the right thing for us." He sighed again, knowing he'd never said these things out loud before. "Lori and I were so young and clueless," he remembered. "Thought we would be together forever. But if I had been totally honest with myself? I could see the cracks before we were even married. And when she got pregnant... She was so happy. And I acted like I was." He reconsidered as he realized how that sounded. "I mean, I actually was, in some ways, but I think I was mostly just scared out of my mind. That nine months flew by; and I remember walking out of that hospital like, 'What the fuck are we doing?'" He looked over to Michonne, trying to read her expression, but he couldn't detect any hints of anything.

"Go on," she told him. She felt like he was looking for her approval, and she wanted him to know that she wasn't judging him.

"I don't know," he said, scratching at his eyebrow with his thumb. His voice was hoarse as he spoke. "I wanted to love him, but I don't know if I did. Not the right way, at first. It was more like, 'Hey, look what I made.' And I remember wondering if my own father had the same problem. It felt like he was just there, and I kept wondering what I was so scared about. I dunno." He looked down again, resting his hand over hers, finally. "But then, he gets older, and I see him do something for the first time. I saw this tiny human as capable, loving, hurting. I saw him as an actual person, and it was like, 'God, look what I made...' And that feeling I was pretending to have just overtook everything. I felt like my heart was gonna explode. And again, it's the scariest thing in the world to realize that there's this person walking around, that if anything happened to them, you would literally  _die_. That there's someone out there that you love that much." He began to scratch his thumb against his thigh as he thought about the ache that took over him every time Carl was in danger. "I've watched my son get shot twice now, and it feels like I'm just going around waiting for something, someone to kill him. And I just don't know... how am I supposed to live like that? Who would sign up for that?"

Michonne had closed her eyes, listening to his words, listening to the terror in his typically placid, deep voice, and it just brought back so many bad memories. Good ones, too, but mostly, she was drowning in thoughts of how she had failed her son, and she understood exactly what Rick meant. Who  _would_  sign up for that? Her eyes flooded with tears, and even her closed eyelids couldn't stop them from spilling onto her cheeks. "I don't know either," she whispered.

Rick looked at her, wondering if she could possibly be so emotional over Carl. He knew she loved him deeply, but the tremble in her voice told him that she felt what he was saying on a much more profound level than that. The look on her face said that she was grieving. "I know you love Carl and Judith," he began to say, his own voice at a whisper as he watched her with her head bowed. "But when I see you with them… with Judith, in particular, it feels like I see another part of you there. After months of you practically ignoring her back at the prison."

She opened her eyes, but didn't look up at him. "What are you trying to say?"

"I dunno," he sighed, wiping at his nose. "Maybe it's all in my head."

She stayed silent for a moment, both of them just gazing blankly at Carl's bed, the sound of all their breathing the only noise in the room. She let out a jittery exhale before deciding to speak again. "It's not in your head," she declared. She turned to him, finally, allowing herself to look him in the eye as she said this. "I had a son." She frowned, trying to stop herself from crying again, but the tears were already formed.

Rick didn't flinch, didn't blink, only moved to hold her hand a little tighter, and didn't break their stare. He didn't say anything, in fact, not wanting to prod her into revealing any more than she wanted to at the moment. He just waited.

She felt a comfort at the warmness of his palm against hers, and she took another deep breath. "He was only three, but… he was everything. He was my heart outside my body, like you said, and I don't know..." The tears were streaming fast as her words trailed off, and she could see Rick's eyes watering, nearly losing her will to keep talking. But she'd held this in for so long. It wasn't even a secret, and yet, she'd been so scared to tell him. She almost wished Carl had done it for her, but it was clear that he hadn't. "It happened pretty early into the turn," she began to reveal, her cadence slow, her voice quaking and unconfident. "The camp we were at, we needed supplies. And I was one of the only people comfortable with killing the walkers at that point. We still looked at them as people, and it was hard to…" she shook her head sadly. "I understood that. I got that it was harder for Mike. It was all hard for Mike once we had to evacuate. He lost touch with his mom, we had to leave our home. It was like Katrina all over again, but there was no way out. There was no safe space anywhere in the country," she explained, wiping her face. "I know you were in a coma when it all happened, but it was insane. Just pure chaos, building, week after week. Mike wanted to drown it all out, but I was always very present, very focused. I did that so he could handle things in his own way, on his own terms. I guess that's what I get for being understanding for once in my life. I was always so stubborn," she chuckled ruefully. "It was always my way, or 'You can get the hell out of my face.' But I loved Mike, and he was scared, so I coddled him. He would drink himself into a stupor, or get high, just to keep from facing it. And I let him. I should've made him come to terms with reality, but I didn't," she shook her head. "Instead, I took care of us. I got us where we needed to go, I kept us fed, I found that sword, I kept us alive. I woke up every morning, ready to die just to keep them safe."

"Rest in peace, now go to war," Rick commented quietly, ignoring his falling tears.

She tightened her grip on his hand as she nodded. "I still don't really know what happened. I went on a run, thinking things were safe enough; Mike was capable enough. And then I came back to a completely overrun camp." She took a long, hard breath as the images flooded her brain. "I don't know if you've had to see someone you love as one of those... things, but… I nearly choked on the air, Rick. I almost didn't believe it, he looked so much like himself still. Like my little boy. It was just the eyes that were different. I remember just standing there for a minute, knowing what I would have to do, and not being able to." She let go of Rick's hand to wipe her wet face, but she could not stop crying. "But I saw him coming towards me, and I swear to god, I thought I was in a nightmare. I kept screaming at myself to wake up."

"Michonne…" Rick was at a loss for words, wondering how he could feel like he knew this woman so well, yet have no idea she walked around with all this on her shoulders.

"I'm okay," she promised with a sniffle. "I just haven't thought about the bad stuff in a while. I miss him every day, but I've learned to bury that day."

"How the fuck did you get through that?" he marveled sadly. He always wondered who she was before they met, and he knew she had scars - they all did. He knew she talked to her dead boyfriend, and that she was alone a lot, maybe by choice, maybe not. He was there to see how hard Andrea's death was on her. But this? He never imagined that she'd gone through something so tragic. He couldn't imagine the strength it took to put down her own child and still move through life. To do so with the poise that she did. With the joy that she still found a way to experience. He sat there realizing that her smile was a true miracle. "Who are you?" he whispered.

She chuckled quietly through her tears and shook her head. "Maybe now you understand why I was so… difficult when we met. I was so angry, Rick."

He gazed at her through tired, bloodshot, tear-filled eyes, and he couldn't believe that she had somehow walked into his life. "When things like this happen," he said, gesturing to Carl, "it's so hard to believe there's a… higher power up there. It's hard to believe in anything, really. But god, there's gotta be somethin' that put us together. Don't you think?"

"I like to think so," she nodded. "We can call it fate, if you want."

He nodded back, resting his head against the counter again. He somehow felt drained and renewed at the same time. "I wish you'd told me about your son sooner," he said quietly. "I could've… I dunno. I don't know if I could've  _helped_ , but maybe I could've lifted you up in some small way."

"Oh, but you did," she smiled at him glumly. "I know you didn't know it. And there were a few times where I considered just saying it. Especially when you would mention Lori. When you thought Judith was gone. I told Carl back then, when I found you after the prison fell, and I think it helped a little. But… I don't know," she shrugged. "I just… didn't want to burden you, I guess."

"Burden me?" he scoffed. "What kinda person do you think I am?"

"I don't know if that's the right word," she admitted, turning her head against the cabinet to face him. "I didn't want you to feel sorry for me." She sighed, her eyes flitting downward. "I was scared that you would judge me."

"Judge you for what?"

"It's silly." She shook her head knowingly. "But… I think some part of me was worried you'd think I was a bad mother."

"Michonne."

"I know."

"What happened to him wasn't your fault," he whispered. "You have to know that."

"I do," she nodded. "My brain understands the logic of that. But that sinking feeling in your heart never quite goes away. That guilt, that feeling of, 'If I had just been there...'"

He quietly nodded back, having felt that several times over with Lori. And when he thought Judith was gone. And now with Carl. "I understand."

"I know you do." She offered a small grin as she wiped her slowly-drying eyes. "We both have that uncanny ability to blame ourselves for things completely beyond our control."

"Fair enough," he chuckled, looking up at his son again. He still hadn't moved, and he couldn't help but think back to those moments on Hershel's farm, where he had nothing to do but wait for Carl to awake from surgery. Him and Lori, for hours on end, just waiting. They didn't talk much, as they had run out of things to say before the world ever ended, but it reminded him of this all the same. He wondered where Michonne was at that point in time. Was her son still alive at that point? Or was she crying for her little boy while they were crying for theirs? "Would you tell me his name?" he asked of her softly, hoping she wouldn't mind.

A wistful smile tugged at Michonne's lips, thinking about her baby boy, and his gorgeous little face. And she rested her head on Rick's shoulder as she answered, "His name was Andre."

* * *

Hours passed, and Rick and Michonne continued to sit on that floor together, trying to keep each other occupied with the random conversations they often had, but nothing seemed to be working in that moment. They were both too sad, too drained to truly entertain one another. It was nice enough to just have the company.

They moved from the floor once the doctor came by, bearing no news, which, for them, was good news. And Daryl and Morgan stopped by, as well as Aaron and Eric, Eugene and Rosita. Rick appreciated the support - he always did - but as the evening gave way to night, which gave way to sometime after midnight, he was relieved to be alone again, with just Carl and Michonne. Back to normal. Where he didn't have to talk, and be gracious, and take on other people's emotions. Michonne allowed him to be silent and sad, and she was the one to carry his feelings on her back.

"I'm glad you're here," he announced, staring blankly at the wall across from them. "I don't think I could've done this without you."

She picked her head up from the bed, gazing back at him with a smile. "We both know that's not true."

"It is," he insisted, shaking his head. "You give me the space to be… whatever it is that I am." He looked at Carl and then turned back to her once more. "I look around, and all I see is a bunch of people I've disappointed. All the people I let die. And I don't see that in you."

"You really think all those people you've saved are disappointed in you?"

He shrugged, not in indifference, but in truly not knowing the answer to her question. "I think they saved themselves."

"They did," she granted with a nod. "But I think we all need a little push every now and then."

"Is that so?"

"That is so," she answered confidently. "And I feel like you're on the verge of forgiving yourself, so here's your push, Rick: I know everything about you. The good, the bad, the ugly. And I still love you.  _Stop_  beating yourself up for this."

He smiled shyly, but he felt his heart skip a beat when she said she loved him. Even if he already knew she did, even if he knew she meant it completely platonically, it was what he needed to hear. Her belief in him, her never adding to his problems, but lightening the load – sometimes it was the only thing that got him through the day. She was certainly the only thing to get him through the prior two.

"I have something to tell you," he decided to announce, sitting back against his seat so that she could see his face.

She smirked at him as she watched him fidget with his wedding ring. "Another dream?"

"Not quite," he quietly chuckled back. Somehow, this was even harder to say than that. But he'd been holding in this massive thing for days now, too busy trying not to die, or feeling guilty for being alive. But now, things were quiet, they were some semblance of stable, and he needed to say it. "I know you don't like to talk about Jessie. And now I don't either," he had to admit, "but she said something to me the other night, and it hasn't left my brain since then."

She imagined that whatever it was must have been haunting him now that she was gone. She turned in her chair so that she was facing him, offering a warm glance. "What was it?"

"She… she thought I was in love with you."

Michonne's soft expression immediately turned into a frown, feeling startled by the information. More confounded that he and Jessie spoke about her than the actual words he was saying. "Why would she say that?"

"It was a difficult, strange conversation, and she was hurt, I think." He was nervously staring at the floor as he spoke. "Confused, I guess. I don't wanna speculate at this point."

"And why are you telling me?" she wondered, her face still wrinkled in bewilderment. She could only hope he didn't think this was one of those things that would make her laugh.

"I tell you everything," he shrugged. "I learned my lesson about that a long time ago."

She looked down as well, wanting to be mad at him for dropping this on her so cavalierly, but her curiosity was getting the best of her. "And what did you say in response?"

"I must've looked at her like she was crazy at first-"

His unabashed honesty was not her friend in that moment, as his response stung her hard, and it came across on her face. "Because the possibility is so remote?" she shot back.

"No," he quickly answered, shaking his head. "No. I just… I was just - it blindsided me. Only because I spent all this time ignoring the fact that you..." His words trailed into silence when he realized that Michonne had suddenly burst into tears. "What's wrong?"

She covered her face, unable to stop the sudden onslaught of emotion, as she shook her head, too.

He waited for minutes that felt like hours as he watched her cry, hoping that she would let him in on what just happened. Maybe something else from her past that would explain this pain. "Please say something," he begged softly.

"It's just... I've been looking around at everything," she finally said, trying to dry her eyes with her shirt. "I've always looked at Glenn and Maggie and thought, 'That's nice,' you know? I wanted what they have, at some point, somewhere down the line." He was staring at her fixedly, and she couldn't help but look elsewhere. "Then there was Bob and Sasha, which… I know. And Abraham and Rosita. Then we get here, and happy couples are all over the place. Aaron and Eric. And you make this… connection with Jessie immediately." Her voice broke again as she shook her head, "I keep seeing people find love at the end of the world, and I just keep wondering, 'What did I do wrong?'" Her tears fell harder when she heard the words out loud.

"Hey," Rick whispered. He stooped down from his chair and got on his knees in front of her, taking her hands. "You didn't do anything. You have to know that you're perfect."

"Then why…" She glanced up at the ceiling while her thoughts ran around her brain in weird, haphazard circles.

"Why what, Michonne?"

She snatched her hands back when she realized what she was about to say, and immediately buried her face in her hands once again. "I'm exhausted," she declared, her words muffled by her fingers. "Ignore me. I'm being silly."

"You're not," he prodded, wishing she would keep going. "Say it."

"No, this is stupid," she maintained, finally looking him in the eye again. "I have it good. I'm here. And we're okay. And Carl's... gonna be okay," she sniffled. "And I'm sitting here whining like a lunatic. Please."

He watched her expression transform from solemn to inscrutable, and it was like literally seeing her put a mask back in place. He looked down disappointedly as his thumb rubbed softly at her knee. They were right on the cusp of getting somewhere good, and just like that, it was over. "Ever the stoic warrior, huh?"

"Takes one to know one."

"Two nights ago, I cried my eyes out in your lap," he reminded her. "I've been trying to show you my cards for a while now, and it feels like you keep tellin' me to put 'em away."

She had to scoff at his analogy. "You know why? Because it feels shitty when you know something is happening to you that can't end well." She used the back of her hand to wipe the tears on her chin, holding his gaze as she did. "When you're falling for someone – it's already happening, nothing but air beneath you, there's  _no_ turning back – and the person you're falling for is doing that same shit with someone else."

"So all those times that you said it wasn't your business…"

She opened her mouth for a rebuttal - to say that she needed to protect herself, and that was why she couldn't let herself feel whatever was happening - but a faint cough brought both of them and their conversation to a halt. Rick turned to the sound, while Michonne popped up from her seat.

"Is he awake?" she asked hopefully, already taking Carl's hand, as Rick moved to examine his face. She noticed that his pulse felt stronger, which could only be a good sign.

Rick gently pushed his son's hair back from his forehead, trying to gauge whether his eyes were moving beneath his eyelids. "Carl," he whispered.

Michonne rubbed softly at Rick's back at she tightened her grip on Carl's hand, both of them staring at him expectantly. "Come on, dude," she whispered.

"Should we call in Denise?" Rick wondered, already reaching for his radio.

"Probably so."

Just then, Carl coughed again, louder, harder, and his eyes fluttered open. Those big blue eyes, focusing in on his father, and then the woman he'd begun to know as his second mother. The two of them let out identical sighs of relief, and for the first time in a long time - since they found Judith alive - their tears were happy.

"Hey," he called out to them, his oxygen mask muzzling the sound of his already faint voice.

Rick immediately moved to kiss Carl's forehead, then pulled back to gaze at him as if he'd never seen him before. "Hey," he grinned.

Michonne also gave him a kiss, right in the middle of his palm as she smiled back at him happily. "Hey."

And as she took in the relief on Rick's face, and the life in Carl's eyes, she instantly thought back to what she'd known all along. They would get to come back.


	11. Clothed

**Chapter 11: Clothed**

A week had passed, and things at the Safe Zone had calmed considerably. Particularly, at the Grimes/Calvet/Peletier/Dixon faction, where Carl was finally able to come home, safe and alive, even if on very strict orders for bed rest. Spirits were high, and Rick, in particular, was in an especially good mood as they welcomed his son home.

"So everyone agreed that you're welcome to take the TV for the next few weeks," he was explaining as he watched his son get comfortable in his bed. He handed over the remotes for the television and DVD player as he sifted through the movies Michonne had collected for him. "Pick your poison."

"The Dark Knight," Carl answered without even thinking about it. He smiled goofily when his dad looked back at him in disbelief.

"Again?" was all Rick could say.

"It's my favorite," he answered defensively. "You shouldn't judge people, Dad."

"All right, all right." He popped the movie into the player for Carl, and then set Judith's baby monitor on the nightstand between their beds. "I'm gonna find you some books, too. Just so you don't burn out on Batman."

"Comic books?"

"Actual books," he emphasized. He eyed his son playfully as he rearranged his comforter beneath his legs. "With words that mean things."

"Michonne likes comic books," Carl reminded him, thinking that would sway his feelings on the matter.

"Michonne likes everything," Rick shot back with a chuckle. "And I guarantee you wouldn't be protesting if she were the one saying this."

"You got me there," Carl conceded with raised eyebrows. He smiled impishly as he added, "I'm like you that way, Dad."

"Very funny," he shook his head, unable to contain his grin. "You need anything else while I'm downstairs?"

"Just some more water, if you don't mind."

"Comin' right up." He grabbed Carl's empty lunch plate and his glass on his way towards the door. "Just speak into the monitor if you need anything at all."

"Got it."

"Anything at all," he pressed. "I don't care if it's to just turn the volume up on the TV."

"I'm not gonna call you for that, but thanks, Dad."

He gave his son one last glance, paired with a smile of relief that he was all right, and then left him to his movie. He quickly padded down the steps, his first stop being to the living room to check on Judith, where she had apparently tuckered herself out, and was fast asleep in her playpen. He then moved into the kitchen, where Michonne had been for the better part of the afternoon, preparing Carl's welcome home meal.

"Smells good," he announced as he strolled into the large, open room, toting Carl's empty dishes. He left them in the sink before going to join Michonne at the stove.

She didn't look up from her concoction, but smiled to herself when she felt the heat of Rick's body beside her. "I don't know if I can quite call it jambalaya, but... I guess it's coming along." She brought a spoonful of the rice to his unwitting lips. "Taste."

He parted his lips to blow on the steaming sample, but she took it as a sign to feed it to him. He pulled back in surprise as the heat filled his mouth, and he swallowed it all without even chewing. "That's hot as hell," he coughed.

"Shit," she immediately reached out to him. "I'm so sorry."

"If you wanna kill me, just use your sword," he joked, still coughing.

"Don't be a baby." Michonne quickly got him a glass of water, but she couldn't help but feel like the baby in the situation. All day long, she'd been unusually nervous and easily distracted.

And she knew why - it was the first time in a week that she and Rick had been in the house at the same time, and things felt so strange now. It had her on edge. Being busy with Carl allowed them to tiptoe around the conversation they'd started almost a week ago. But now, they were home, and all their big, bad problems were evaporating, which meant everything they weren't saying to each other was just hanging over their heads.

Rick finished his water in practically one gulp, and then sat the glass back on the counter. He stared at Michonne expectantly as he folded his arms over his chest. "You okay?"

She nodded somewhat shyly, avoiding his gaze. "I'm sorry."

He waved off the minor incident, still gazing at her. "It's weird having things go back to normal, isn't it."

"Relatively speaking," she appended for him, a small smirk on her lips. "Yeah..."

He nodded awkwardly, too, unsure of how to restart the conversation that had ended so abruptly when Carl woke up. "Well, now that we're home... it feels like maybe we should resolve our unfinished business from last week."

"But it's so much easier to just awkwardly ignore it like we have been."

He knew she was joking, but he was too serious to respond to it. "Listen, I understand that things didn't start off right. I said Jessie's name, and you reverted right back to your usual shut-down mode."

"It just felt… I dunno," she sighed, leaning against the counter adjacent to him. "I was scared that you were telling me just to tell me."

"I wasn't," Rick promised quietly, uncrossing his arms. "I had this whole soliloquy planned out, where I would explain how I came to this epiphany, and I kind of expected it to hit you the way it hit me, I guess. I dunno," he nervously exhaled. "I've never done any… grand declaration of love; maybe I should've just said it. But that felt like cheating," he shrugged. "I don't know how long it would've taken me to figure it out if Jessie hadn't said it first, and I didn't wanna mislead you."

She looked up at him finally, catching his eye as she took in his words. "Because you tell me everything."

"Well, yeah," he smiled hesitantly. "Until you start crying."

"I don't know why I did that," she shook her head. "I was crazy that night."

"You do know why. And I wish you would just say it."

"I can't... just say it." She noticed then that the blue of his button-down shirt matched his eyes exactly, and it was hard to look away. "You're asking a lot here."

"What could possibly be so bad that you can't tell me? What wouldn't I understand?"

Michonne sighed, trying to figure out the words that would make this make sense. "It's not that you wouldn't understand, necessarily. It's just always been safer to play my cards close to the vest," she explained, gesturing for her heart. "And especially now. This world being so tiny, and you're my favorite person in it. I couldn't and  _can't_  afford to lose whatever we have… even if it was starting to feel like it wasn't enough."

Rick's face contorted to a frown as he tried to understand what she was trying to say. "What did you think I would do, Michonne? Abandon you for expressing your feelings?"

"No," she smiled sadly, trying not to cry. All this honesty was a lot to handle. "It was me. I mean, you saw how I was the first eight months of our friendship. When you feel people getting too close, you kind of start holding your arms out," she explained, mimicking the act of pushing someone away. "And it's not even on purpose, but just your innate response is to keep yourself protected. And the more I saw you with Jessie, the more I shut that part down, because I didn't want to face the fact that this was gonna hurt soon. Seeing you with her, knowing you were forming feelings for her, practically out of nowhere, and I wanted so badly to ignore it." She shook her head again as she thought about the fact that he kissed her. Sure, it was only on the cheek, but she had never even gotten that much from him. "It felt like you were moved by her in some way. You wanted  _her_. And I just... eventually, it was like, 'Wait, why her? Why not me?' And how was I supposed to ask you that?"

"Michonne…" he whispered, moving in closer so that he had her practically cornered against the counter. Her words, the softness and earnestness in her voice, the vulnerability of it – it made his heart sink and sing at the same time. "I don't know… I mean, I guess I can see why you thought that. People kept tryin' to tell me what it looked like, and I wouldn't listen," he granted. "But Jessie and I weren't there." He let out a soft sigh, recalling how she thought the same. "I know she thought so, too. And I was so scared of disappointing her, I didn't  _say_  it. Hell, I think I just stopped looking her in the eye, trying not to be blinded by all the expectation."

Michonne sighed back, wishing she hadn't shut down so much when it came to Jessie. Maybe they could've waded through all the confusion. But she had just been so scared, and much too stubborn to actively watch him like someone else. "I guess I know that now," she admitted. "But I was jealous of her, at least a little bit, and I just couldn't open that door."

"Yeah, I kind of got that," he smirked.

"You didn't get shit."

"You really think I didn't feel that tension whenever she was brought up? That's why I kept tryin' to push you through your 'That's none of my business' shtick, but you wouldn't budge."

She raised an eyebrow at his assessment of the situation. "Well did you get that it stung like hell when you said she was still with you?"

"What?" Rick frowned, puzzled.

" _What_  what?"

"I said that?"

"Yes," she quipped. "And you're lucky I didn't knock you upside the head again when you did."

"Jesus, Michonne, you know I didn't mean it like that," he chuckled lightly. "Her being 'with me' and you being with me were two totally different things."

She nodded slowly in response, feeling relief. Vindication. "Here I thought you were trying to fall in love with her."

"I wasn't," he answered quickly, confidently. Moving closer still as his eyes dropped to her lips, and he had to resist the urge to run his thumb across them. "I think I thought I could, at first. And maybe I would've, at some point, but… I knew something wasn't quite there," he spoke softly. "I didn't realize until a week ago that it was because I didn't have any space left for her." He clutched his chest, holding the spot where his heart was beating. "Not with you there."

Michonne's big brown eyes darted up at him, wondering if she'd heard him correctly. And it was the exact opposite feeling she had when he said Jessie was still with him. She wanted to hear it again, letting it echo in her ears. She also hadn't known it until recently, but this was exactly what she'd been waiting for. "What are you doing to me?" she whispered, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

He shook his head, his voice barely audible as well. "I dunno."

She was the one to eye his lips now, and something in her brain told her that she needed to seize the moment. Because there would never be a better one. Rick had made his grand declaration, and now she needed to make hers. This was it.

She reached out, using her index finger, to grab one of his belt loops and pull him close. Her eyes darted up, staring into those mesmerizing blues of his for just a second, and then she lifted her head to meet his. They were cheek to cheek, then nose to cheek, and then nose to nose, both of them pausing there, breathing heavily, nervously. Then Michonne's eyes closed, and her top lip grazed his bottom one, and it was less than a second before their mouths were aligned, their lips parted.

Rick inhaled sharply as the feel of her lips took over, and he realized that this wasn't some dream, or a fantasy he'd had more than once before. No, he and Michonne were truly kissing, and her lips were so soft, so luscious, he almost didn't know what to do with himself. He let his mind go blank as her body pressed against his, and he deepened the contact, pushing his tongue into her warm mouth. Doing the dance they'd been waiting to do for nearly a year now. They kissed long and hard, sucking air from one another, devouring each other's lips, tongues wrestling, for minutes on end, not breaking contact to see or even breathe. They drowned in one another, letting out everything they'd kept bottled up for so long now.

He had Michonne pinned against the counter when he finally pulled out of their kiss, but only long enough for his mouth to explore the rest of her. He pushed her hair out of his way, clutching the back of her neck as his lips moved across her face until he reached her throat, sucking and licking at her delicious skin. Michonne's fingers tangled in his curls as she let him and his tongue devour her. His lips were wet and soft, and his tongue was hot, making her squirm against him excitedly. He continued across her collarbone, circling her gold chain and the M that hung from it before he reached her shoulders. Those coveted shoulders that he'd admired for so long. He kissed at her right one, soft and gentle, while his hands frantically inched upward, pulling down the straps of her bra, beneath her tank top.

Michonne smiled to herself as she realized where this was headed, and her own hands trailed down to Rick's hips, doing her best to blindly untuck his shirt from his jeans. And as his lips moved down to her chest, tonguing her cleavage, her fingers went beneath his shirt, reveling in the warm skin of his muscular bare torso. It was hard and rippled in just the right places, making her stomach flutter with excitement as they moved in even closer to one another. They were practically on top of one another, in fact, and Michonne could feel Rick's bulge pressed against her, getting harder by the second as he dipped his tongue between her breasts.

She was just about to unbuckle his belt and get those pants undone when both of them heard the front door open, and Michonne wanted to scream out in frustration.

"Fuck," Rick exhaled against her skin, giving her neck one last quick kiss before pulling away, irritated.

Michonne returned her bra straps and tank top to their normal positions, and then turned back for the stove, where her food was on the verge of burning, much in the same way she was. And Rick uselessly tried to re-tuck his shirt, but as the voices of their roommates got closer, he figured it best to let it stay in place, considering it concealed his very apparent arousal.

As he turned for the sink, Carol and Daryl walked into the kitchen, hoping to investigate the delicious aroma wafting throughout the house, but found that they'd obviously stumbled into something much more interesting. "Hey," Carol greeted the suspiciously quiet duo.

"Hey," Rick answered, pretending to scratch at his nose in order to hide his swollen lips.

"Hey," Daryl returned, looking at him strangely, and then at Michonne, who still had her back turned to all three of them. "What smells so good?"

"Jambalaya," she answered, still avoiding their faces. "It's for Carl."

"I should actually… go check on him," Rick announced awkwardly. He quickly filled a glass with water and turned out of the room before anyone could respond.

Carol watched as Michonne's gaze followed him, and she decided to drop her rifle and her sweater to the nearest counter. "I'm gonna check on him, too," she told Daryl. She quickly left to catch up to Rick, who was halfway up the stairs when she quietly called out to him. "What the hell was that about, Officer Friendly?"

He stopped in his tracks, sighing softly. "What was what about, Carol?"

"Really?" She moved up the steps to meet him in the middle. "It felt like someone turned an oven on when we walked in there."

He chuckled as he turned to look at her, but he wasn't ready to get into a long discussion about it at that moment. He was still trying to recover from it. "Well maybe the oven  _was_  on," he offered sarcastically.

Carol smirked at him knowingly, and the gleam in his eye managed to answer her question without him saying a word. "It's nice to see you like this," she said, patting him on the shoulder as she continued up the steps.

* * *

"I'm almost scared to ask this," Carl said, swallowing another spoonful of his dinner, "but where the heck did you find chicken and sausage?"

Michonne smiled as she gently placed her empty bowl on his nightstand. "If you must know, I took it from soup we had on hand. Chicken noodle, and some kind of so-called gumbo."

He nodded, chuckling at her ingenuity. "Smart."

"This whole apocalypse thing has made me extremely resourceful, it turns out."

"I bet you always were."

She shrugged, watching as he slowly took in another bite before reaching for his water. "It's not too spicy is it," she frowned in concern. "I made sure to only add minimal pepper and paprika."

"It's perfect," he quickly assured her after taking a few quick sips. "My mouth has just been getting dry easily."

She nodded, smiling at him proudly once again, and she couldn't help but admire his fortitude. He and his father were so much alike. "I hear there's gonna be a supply run this weekend, and I think I'm gonna go," she declared. "So if you need anything… or  _want_  anything, you let me know."

"You're going on a run?" he asked incredulously. "What about your leg?"

"It's okay," she promised, gazing at him in appreciation for his concern. "Not at a hundred percent, but I won't get there until I go back out there."

"Dad's not gonna like that," he knew, picking up his jambalaya bowl again. "He's been in such a good mood, too."

Michonne giggled at his consideration, knowing he was probably right, but quickly sobered up when Rick walked into the room with his dinner in one hand and Judith in the other. He glanced at Michonne briefly, the sight of her sitting on his bed a welcome one, and then he moved to join her.

"What am I not gonna like," he greeted them both.

"Michonne said she's going on a run," Carl answered, happy that his dad was joining them. "This weekend."

Both Rick and Judith looked over to her in surprise as he took his seat. "Is that so?"

"That is so," she nodded timidly, her eyes completely avoiding Rick's, and focusing in on Judith instead. "What's it to you?"

"Well, it's scary to me, given what happened the last time you went outside these gates."

"He thinks he can keep me inside forever now," she noted to Carl with a roll of her eyes. "I'm almost scared to see what he does with you after this."

"Well what happened to me was inside the gates, so I probably won't even be allowed outside the house," he joked.

Rick nodded sarcastically at the fact that the two of them were talking about him as if he weren't sitting right there. "All right."

"Tell us we're wrong, Dad."

"Maybe I'm a little overprotective," he could admit, smiling as Judith pulled at his shirt. "It's only because I love you guys. I worry about you."

Michonne instinctively smiled at the fact that he admitted to loving her in front of Carl. He wasn't saying it in  _that_  way, she knew, but it reminded her that he did love her in that way, too. And he wasn't afraid of it, which was a bit astounding to her.

Carl glanced at Michonne briefly, surprised that she didn't react to his dad's admission beyond a small smile. So he decided to play it cool, too. "Well, Dad, loving us comes with trusting us too, you know."

"It's not you I don't trust," he said, glancing back and forth between his son and Michonne. "It's the world. It keeps tryin' to take you from me, and I don't like tempting it."

Carl nodded, while Michonne gazed at the teenager sympathetically. She hated to admit it, but she couldn't help but agree with Rick. As much as she wanted the freedom to do what she needed to do, she absolutely hated it when Rick was gone. And his concern was warranted. The world out there was cruel, and it seemed intent on reminding them of that over and over again. "Your dad's not wrong," she said, offering an apologetic smile to the kid.

"I kept having these really strange dreams while I was... gone," Carl started to say, seeing his parents both drowning in worry at that moment. "I kept seeing people that had died, and it felt like they were trying to take me with them. I was running, like as fast as I could, but I kept bumping into someone else that had died. Dale, Tyreese, Hershel, Beth. And I just remember yelling, 'I don't wanna go with you, leave me alone!' Because I knew you were back here, and you needed me." He made sure to look at all three of them as he said so. "And then finally, I run into this house. It looked a lot like our old house, Dad. Except it was here in Alexandria. It was weird," he shook his head, confused. "But Mom was waiting there, and Shane was with her. And I think I wanted to stay for a while, just to catch up, I guess. But I knew I needed to run. I knew if I let them touch me, that I wouldn't be able to get away. And I was right," he remembered, frowning as he thought of how strange it all was. "Mom hugged me, and suddenly, I couldn't move anymore. My arms were stuck to my sides. My feet went numb. And Shane kept telling me everything was okay. I was home now."

Michonne looked up at him inquisitively when he didn't say anything else and silence loomed over the four of them. "So what happened?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "I can only remember chunks of dreams. Never the full thing."

"That's normal, even when you're not in a coma," Rick assured him. He looked to Michonne to see if she'd gotten the joke, but she was looking down at the floor.

"Well I think I remembered the important part," Carl said, trying to sit up a bit in his bed. "I think what Shane was saying was something I wanted to say to you guys. And that's that we're home now, and everything  _is_  gonna be okay. It's time to stop running," he declared passionately. "Because we know how to survive at this point, but I'm not sure that any of us know how to  _live_. And that's what I want us to do. That's the next hurdle we should get over."

Rick looked at his son, completely in love with his eloquence and earnestness. He was so thankful that this injury hadn't ruined the person that he had been turning into. It easily could've changed his mind about a lot of things. Turned him cynical, angry. But instead, he only seemed more thoughtful, even more mature. "You're right, son," he nodded. He rubbed at Judy's back while his eyes roamed around the small room. "That was why Michonne wanted to come here in the first place."

Michonne smiled again, this time at the fact that Rick remembered that; and then chuckled at how stubborn he had been about getting there. Their entire trip to Washington, it felt like they were an old married couple. She didn't say anything in reply, but looked down at Judith instead, playing with her little feet.

Carl looked back and forth between his dad and Michonne, trying to figure out why things seemed so strange between them. So strained. They were smiling and laughing, maybe even more so than usual, but Michonne wouldn't look at him. He was so used to them constantly looking at each other. "Hey, is everything okay?" he decided to go ahead and ask.

Rick glanced down at Judith as her little hand grazed his stubbly cheek and he nodded in confidence. "Everything's fine, son."

Michonne nodded as well, though her eyes darted back to the floor, blankly staring down at her and Rick's bare feet, side-by-side. "Everyone's okay," she said. "So everything's okay."

"All right," Carl conceded, figuring he would need to be a little more specific. "Is everything okay with you two?"

Rick looked over at Michonne, finding her expression unreadable from his angle. But he answered affirmatively anyway. "Yeah."

"Michonne?"

She looked up at Carl offering her most genuine smile. "We're fine." She finally glanced at Rick, with the added cuteness of Judith climbing all over him, and she quirked an eyebrow at him. "We are," she confirmed for both him and Carl.

Rick nodded in something like relief, watching as she stood from the bed, collecting her and Carl's empty bowls to take with her. "Then where are you goin'?"

"I'm tired," she lied. "I just wanna get the kitchen cleaned up and then lay down." She softly brushed her hand over Carl's head, smiling down at him. "Good night, you three."

He gazed up at her, a bit disappointed that she was leaving so abruptly, but figured she probably hadn't gotten a whole lot of rest lately, so he didn't protest. "Good night, Michonne."

Rick kept his eyes fixated on the window as she passed him, and watched as her reflection disappeared from the room instead of her. He then looked back at Carl, giving him the facial equivalent of a shrug. "I'm gonna give Judy a bath," he announced, also standing from the bed. "If you need anything, you know—"

"Dad," Carl cut him off seriously. He stared at his old man, those ever-curious eyes of his boring into him. "Whatever you did, please fix it."

"Who says I did anything?" he chuckled, a bit unnerved by the accusation.

"The look on Michonne's face when she walked out of here," he answered. He released his father's gaze as he rested his head back against his pillow. "You guys can try to act like everything is okay, but something is obviously going on."

"Carl-."

"You don't have to tell me what it is. Just fix it."

Rick couldn't say much in reply. He wasn't sure whether what was happening to them was actually fixable. It was strange, and confusing, and a little bit exciting, but fixable? He couldn't tell. Still, he nodded back at Carl, because he had nothing else to offer in that moment. "I'll try, son."

* * *

_I'm in over my head_

It was just after 11:00 when Michonne returned to her room for the night, after what turned out to be a long, contemplative shower. Her thoughts filled with images of her and Rick's kiss, and the words that preceded it. It was so hard to believe that it actually happened. That it was  _happening_. When for so long, her attraction to Rick was this abstract thing in the back of her mind. She could enjoy him, and the innocent flirting they did, while keeping their core relationship in tact.

But this was something else entirely. Feelings. Mutual feelings that they would either have to act on or find some way to bury, and that was a hard thing to process. She always had some excuse not to address her feelings, be it Jessie, or Andrea's death, or just plain survival. But now, there was nowhere else to hide. She kept trying to come up with reasons to run away from it, but now, she was coming up empty.

_I don't think of you in bits and pieces  
_ _I think of you only, like a miracle_

Michonne had quickly gotten dressed for bed in her usual tank top and shorts combination, and sat down in the middle of her floor, preparing for her nightly exercise routine. A few one-legged push-ups to strengthen her thigh, and then maybe some sit-ups, she figured. But then there was a knock at the door just as she got into position, and she felt her heart skip a beat. She knew who it was - Carol and Daryl rarely bothered her, and Carl wasn't exactly up and about at the moment. So she took a deep breath and prepared herself for the inevitability of Rick on the other side of the door.

"Come in," she nearly mumbled.

Rick opened the door, surprised to find Michonne inexplicably sitting in the middle of the hardwood floor, and he smirked at her. "That where you sleep these days?"

Her breath caught in her throat at the fact that Rick was standing in her doorway shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and toting a baby monitor. "What?" she asked, not having heard a word he said.

_Loving so deeply, I feel it through all my past lives_

He chuckled lightly as he walked in and closed the door behind him. "I was joking. I just asked if you sleep on the floor nowadays."

"Oh." Michonne purposely looked down as Rick walked toward her, antsy about what she might see. She had been suddenly plagued with shyness, and she hated it.

"You all right?" he wondered, standing over her now.

She nodded, but still wouldn't look up.

"You mind if I join you?"

"Be my guest," she allowed, gesturing for him to take the spot beside her. As he moved, she caught a whiff of his scent - the apricot body wash she had just used herself - and it made her chuckle.

"What's so funny?" he wondered, carefully setting the baby monitor out of their way.

"I dunno," she grinned, shaking her head.

_It feels good  
_ _I'm never saying goodbye_

He looked over to her, nearly blinded by that beautiful smile of hers in the fairly dim room. "I was surprised to hear you in the shower just now," he noted. "I thought you went to bed hours ago."

"I took a nap," she said, pointing back to her atypically messy bed. "But I couldn't stay asleep, it seemed."

"Me either."

She nodded awkwardly, and the two of them sat in silence for a long time, listening to the sound of crickets chirping loudly in the distance. Both of them trying to read the other's mind and failing, because the only thing on their own minds was what happened in the kitchen earlier. All the cards were finally on the table, and they were both too afraid to look at them.

_I'm in over my head, over my head  
_ _I'm in over my head…_

"So," Rick sighed, deciding to break the silence. "It seems like what happened today might warrant a discussion…"

"I thought what happened today was the discussion," she smiled nervously.

He let out a chuckle through his nose as his eyes scanned the floor. "So we almost have sex, and you don't have anything else to say?" he submitted hoarsely. "How is that possible?"

"What is there to say?"

"How long are you gonna run from this, Michonne?" He shook his head disappointedly as he ran his hand through his damp curls. "I keep telling you I'm in love with you, and I think you feel the same way. But it's like you don't want to. It's like you're sad because you do, and I don't understand that."

She closed her eyes, scared to dive into this conversation, yet again. Every time they started on this topic, her feelings only seemed to deepen. "Please stop," she whispered.

_I'm in over my head_

He looked over to her, thrown by the request. "What?"

A soft sigh escaped her lips and she decided to lay back, flat against the floor, her eyes scanning the ceiling. "Of course I feel the same way. But I feel like I'm suffocating every time you bring it to the surface," she said quietly. "I think I've been in love with you for a long time now, and I don't… I can't process you feeling the same. Finally."

_Fine, then explain it to me  
_ _There's no joy I can take with knowing what's waiting_

"So you're upset when you think I don't feel the same, and you're upset now that you know I do? What… what are we supposed to do with that?"

"I'm not upset," she clarified, shaking her head against the floor. "This is confusion. This is… new territory, and I'm nervous," she admitted. "I was okay when it was latent, minor, 'I think I might like him more than a friend' feelings. But this went from zero to sixty really fast, and I feel like I can't breathe."

Rick slowly uncrossed his legs, and leaned backward so that he was lying down next to her, and they were suddenly impossibly close as he turned his face towards her, studying her, wanting to understand her. "So did that kiss mean anything?"

She looked back at him, wanting to tell him that it meant everything. "I don't know."

_Here for now, but not for long  
_ _When will my mind slip away? Explain that to me_

"I'm scared too, you know." His eyes roamed up and down her face, taking in every curve and line of her anxious expression. "More than I have been in a long time."

"You are?"

"I am."

_I'm in over my head  
_ _Loving so deeply I'm in over my head_

"What are we so scared of?" she frowned.

"I dunno," he shook his head, rubbing tiredly at his forehead. "Maybe because we've spent a year creating... this, and we could've ruined it all in five to seven minutes, if Daryl and Carol hadn't walked in."

She smiled, feeling sad for the truth of his statement, but she couldn't help but want to laugh. "Five minutes?" she joked. "Not exactly trying to sell yourself here…"

"Well if I can't be honest with you, then who can I be honest with?" he grinned in response.

She had to shake her head, because the truth was, she probably wouldn't have even lasted that long herself. "I guess it has been a while for you, huh?"

"Oh, just a while for me?"

"You're the one that brought up the five minutes. I'm not about to sell myself out like that."

He nodded in amusement, eyeing her long bare legs, looking so smooth and soft, stretched out in front of them. He would've given anything for them to be wrapped around his waist right about then. "It's been about two years," he admitted, feeling something like a monk as the words came out of his mouth.

Michonne frowned in surprise at that, seeing how his wife had been gone for only about a year. But then, given what Andrea had told her about the situation, maybe that wasn't all that surprising. "Same," she confessed, looking back up at the ceiling. "No wonder we're so on edge."

"I suppose so," he answered distractedly. He watched the side of her face intently as she closed her eyes, and began to lick her lips. "It would've been the best five minutes of your life, though."

"Oh god," she laughed loudly, loving the arrogance he had to say such a thing. Loving that he had the ability to make her laugh like that. Only him. And then her thoughts about it began to run wild, wondering if he could actually back up that claim. "I love that you have so much confidence in your skills."

"I have confidence in how much I want you."

_I'm in over my head_

Her face grew hot and she felt butterflies in her stomach as she imagined the two of them tearing each other's clothes off and fucking on their kitchen counter. She inhaled sharply at the image, and she loved and hated that this was what was on her mind. Constantly. Rick Grimes. His voice. His smile. Those eyes. Those fucking eyes, that were probably watching her at that very moment. His hands, constantly on her in some way or another. He had begun to consume her.

_Loving so deeply I'm in over my head_

"What are you thinking about?" he whispered into her ear.

She was thinking about him, and the kiss they'd shared earlier. What his lips felt like on hers, and how hard and warm his stomach was. She was thinking about how good it felt to know he loved her. He wanted her. She was thinking about what it would feel like having him inside her, finally, and she exhaled heavily as she opened her eyes again. "I'm thinking about a lot of things."

_Loving so deeply I'm in over my head_

"You don't feel like sharing?"

"I don't," she smiled.

She felt his hand brush her hip as he reached for hers, and for the first time in their short history, he didn't just  _hold_  her hand - he intertwined their fingers in a small, unexpectedly intimate symbol of their connection. "All right," he said, resting their clasped hands over his chest. "The silence is better anyway, right?"

Michonne nodded against the floor again, the back of her hand feeling on fire as it rested against his warm skin, and she realized that she was feeling the beating of his heart. It was racing, and she didn't have to wonder why. This was what love felt like.

Tears ran down the side of her face and pooled in her ears, because her heart was racing, too. Because somehow, some way, the world was allowing for this to happen, and it didn't make sense. And it was probably a trap. And with her eyes wide open, she was still going to fall right in. "Right."

_Loving so deeply I'm in over my head_


	12. Head

A small ache in Michonne's elbow jolted her from her sleep, and her eyes opened to her dimly lit bedroom; confusion taking over when the bottom of her bed was the only view in sight. She lifted her head, only to realize she was peeling her face from Rick's chest, and her memories of the evening came back to her immediately. In the silent aftermath of their very heartfelt conversation, the two of them had fallen asleep on the floor. They had obviously taken enough comfort in each other not to mind the cold, hard wood, but it seemed the consequences had caught up with her.

She sat up just enough to see the time on the clock was 2:14, and then fell back against her sleeping companion. "Rick," she whispered, lightly pinching at the skin of his stomach. When he didn't budge, she said his name a bit louder. " _Rick_."

He finally stirred from what had been a very good sleep, but not enough to open his eyes. "Hmm," he asked groggily.

"We should get off the floor," she spoke against his chest. "Get into bed."

He let out a long, loud sigh, his entire body contracting as he forced himself awake. He opened his eyes to see the top of Michonne's head, and the events of the might slowly came back to him as well. "What'd you say?" he yawned.

"I said we should get off of the floor."

"Mmm." He sniffled lightly as he began to run his hand along Michonne's back. "You really wanna move?"

"Not really," she admitted. She looked up to take in his face, smiling at the sight of him and his sleepy eyes. "But my butt hurts."

The two of them chuckled quietly, Rick mostly through his nose, before he yawned again. As his fingers wandered across her skin, he could feel the goosebumps raised along her shoulder. "You cold?"

"Not particularly," she mumbled against him. She was rather hot, in fact, seeing how close she was to his nearly-naked body. "I'm surprised you're not."

"Laying next to you?" He scoffed playfully and began to move beneath her as he lightly tapped her back. "Hold up for a minute."

She did just that, sitting up fully, and watching as he did the same. He grabbed the edge of the comforter on her bed and swiftly pulled it down to the floor with them. Amused, Michonne sat up on her knees, not taking her eyes off of him as he laid the blanket down, creating a layer of softness between them and the hard floor.

"There," he offered, pleased with himself for his quick solution. He fell back on their makeshift bed, leaving open the spot she'd occupied for the prior two hours. "Come back to bed."

Michonne wasn't sure why they couldn't just get into her actual bed, but she did enjoy the closeness that came with being on the floor together, so she gladly obliged, crawling back towards him. But she surprised herself when she opted not to lie back down, but climbed on top of Rick instead, straddling his lean waist, her ass resting against his crotch. "Hey," she smirked, enjoying the look on his face that said she'd taken him by surprise, too.

"Hey…" he returned, trying to stop himself from reacting to the contact. But he couldn't help but lick his lips as he wondered if this was headed where he thought. "So much for not moving, huh?"

"So it would seem," she shrugged with a mischievous grin. She was eyeing his wet mouth, and she could feel her inner excitement building. She could feel his dick beneath the thin layer of his boxers, and it was making her hot, her tits beginning to perk up as her nipples hardened.

"You okay?" he asked, seeing her expression slowly change. She looked nervous again, as if something was happening that she didn't quite understand.

"I'm fine," she frowned. She wiped her own lips as she stared down at him, trying to figure out if she was ready for this.

"You look confused," he chuckled.

"It's just… bothering me. How much I want you," she admitted, her eyebrows knitted in said confusion. "You're so attractive and…" she let out a sigh. "I can't believe you showed up to my room half naked, and instead of ripping the rest of your clothes off, I decide to sit here and cry."

"Well, to be fair, most women would cry if I showed up half naked," he smiled up at her.

"Oh, yeah right," she grinned, enjoying that he could be both arrogant and self-deprecating at practically the same time. "It's not adorable to pretend like you're not adorable."

"Well, I'm a forty-year-old man, so… I'm not exactly aiming for adorable here."

"And yet, you are," she teased, beginning to feel a bit more comfortable again. Their conversations always put her at ease, no matter how insignificant. Or significant, for that matter. "And I didn't know you were forty," she realized, her eyes dancing their way down his chest. "I thought we were closer in age."

"You thought I was twenty-eight?" He lifted his knees, giving her something to rest her back against. "Come on."

"You know good and well I'm not twenty-eight," she laughed quietly, hitting him on the side of his ribcage.

"I actually have no idea how old you are," he confessed, his smile not leaving his face. "I was fishing for information."

"I turned thirty-six somewhere in the last few weeks," she revealed. Her fingers were creeping up and down his bare sides, loving how soft his skin was. "Probably when we were in North Carolina."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"What was I supposed to say," she shook her head. "'Hey, I know we just lost Beth, but it's my birthday, y'all.'"

He had to concede that they weren't in the best frame of mind on the road, but he still would've wanted to know. "You could've told me…"

She smiled ruefully, but dismissed it just as easily as it had come up. "Well now you know."

"Fair enough," he chuckled, letting his hands roam up her thighs. Her skin was so smooth and so warm, it felt like silk beneath his fingers. It all felt so wonderfully intimate, he didn't care why she was sitting on top of him – he was just glad that she was comfortable enough to do it.

"So am I too young for you," she joked, finally leaning back against his thighs with a light sigh. "Or can we get on with it?"

"You're just no holds barred all of a sudden, huh?"

She shrugged, struggling and failing to maintain a sense of nonchalance about it all. "I can't pretend that I haven't wanted to do this forever."

His eyes trailed up her torso, hovering at her round breasts for several seconds, until finally, he landed on her face again. His hands still held onto her thighs as he grinned at her choice of words. "I said that to you in my dream," he recalled.

She felt antsy under his hungry stare, and couldn't even recall what words had come out of her mouth. "You said what?"

"That I've wanted to do this forever."

"You didn't tell me that part," she eyed him playfully, thumping his chest again. Willing to use any reason she could find to touch him again.

Rick did his best to contain his smile as his hands moved up to Michonne's waist, his fingers sneaking past the waistband of her shorts and feeling the bare skin of her hips. "Well now you know."

"You're such a liar," she laughed, shaking her head as she leaned down to kiss him.

As her lips covered his, he held her face with one hand, while the other unapologetically groped at her perfect ass. After a year of simply staring, he couldn't help but be excited by the fact that he was finally able to touch it, in all its squeezable goodness. And Michonne could easily feel his erection growing beneath her, and she began to slowly grind against him in response. Kissing him hard, sucking at his delicious bottom lip while the bulge between them got bigger.

"We're really doing this?" Rick questioned out loud as Michonne's kisses trailed down to his neck. His dick was throbbing, and she was sucking at his skin like a vacuum, as if she couldn't get enough. He needed to know that this was really happening.

"I can't wait anymore," she whispered against his throat.

Rick was so turned on, his hips instinctively bucked upward, causing Michonne to squeal in surprise. She lifted her body from his and gazed down at him sexily. Excitedly. Drinking all of him in, finally, for the first time in their short history together.

She stared at his face and that lovely, chiseled jawline of his that could cut through glass; and those perfectly kissable pink lips, glistening in the dark room. The way he stared back, his mesmeric blue eyes squinting back at her the way they often did. It was always so sexy when he did that, she thought. As though he was trying to peer into her. She licked her lips, wondering what he was seeing in that moment.

Her eyes continued down to his neck, where she had already shamelessly sucked his blood to the surface. That would leave a mark in the morning, and she was secretly glad for it.

Her gaze ran across his broad, sturdy shoulders, thinking of the many times she'd rested her head there. Noticing the stab wound he'd gotten from Morgan back when they first met. Seemed like another lifetime ago, at that point. The likelihood of those two people ending up falling in love was so low, and yet, there they were. She smiled as she thought of how far they'd come.

Michonne's grin didn't fade as her exploration took her down to his arms, fondly recalling how he carried her home when she was the one to get stabbed. He wasn't at all burly, but she knew just how strong those arms were. And the way his veins raised in his forearm was a major turn-on for her. She always thought so, but as she completed her first full study of his body, the fact only seemed highlighted. Adding to that, his watch complemented his tanned skin perfectly, and she realized that Rick's arms were her favorite thing about him.

Her eyes continued down his torso, which was a thing of beauty in itself. He was lean but muscular, as if he worked out and ate right religiously. But she knew that he was just naturally perfect. Her fingers ran down the lines of his abs, and he began to breathe a little harder, his stomach contracting more and more the lower she went. Tracing the groove of his pronounced hipbones, she smiled to herself, knowing exactly where it led, and she couldn't wait to devour him.

"You mind if I..." Her fingers were playing with the top of his shorts, and her eyes highlighted the fact that she wanted to pull them off.

"Not at all," he smirked.

She scooted backward, giving herself space to lower his boxers, and her entire body quivered as Rick's cock came into view. It was bigger than she expected, especially in girth, and it was a crime that he had kept it to himself for so long. It was long, and thick, and seemed to curve slightly to the left in its hard state, which made her smile. The head was pink like his lips, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss it right then, desperate to taste him.

Rick inhaled sharply as Michonne took him into her hand, softly tugging at the shaft as she leaned down over him. She gave the tip a quick lick and then stopped when she felt his body tremble, his dick twitching against her fingers. She looked up at him in amusement, and his lips were parted slightly, clearly trying to breathe through the impending pleasure.

Without warning, she began to roll her tongue around the head, showing no mercy to the fact that his body was practically begging for her to take it slow. Instead, she took his hips into her hands, attempting to hold him still, and used only her mouth to work him. She sucked him like a lollipop, her tongue hungrily licking at the pre-cum beading at the tip. She then took all of him into her mouth – as much as she could, at least – and moved her own head in torturous circles.

"Michonne," Rick croaked out, feeling as though he was coming unglued. His breathing was unsteady, and he unknowingly clutched a handful of her locs, needing something to hold onto as she worked her magic. "Fuck," he was groaning. " _Fuck_."

Michonne tried to keep her eyes on him as she blew him, his reaction only making her work harder. She used one hand to stroke his dick softly, while she licked slowly at his swollen balls, taking one into her mouth and then releasing it for the other. Going back and forth between them, her hand gently massaging his shaft as she sucked.

"I'm gonna come," he warned her breathlessly, unsure how she wanted to handle it.

"Go ahead," she encouraged in a whisper, immediately taking his cock back into her mouth. She continued using her hand to coerce his climax, while her mouth tried to suck it out of him. Her other hand went to his lower abdomen, absentmindedly playing with the trail of hair that led down to his dick. It only took a few more pumps before she felt that warm explosion in her mouth, and Rick's cum hit the back of her throat. It was a little bit sweet, mostly sour, and she made no hesitation of swallowing it all; licking the excess from her lips, as well as the tip of his dick, moaning softly as she did.

Rick watched in a haze as Michonne came back up to face him, still licking her delicious lips, as a self-satisfied smile crossed her face. She was so glad to be responsible for his first orgasm in two years. She was happy to make him happy.

He stared at her, awed and in love with everything about her. She was beautiful, and honest, and sexy, and he knew he probably didn't deserve her. But even if he only had that night, he wanted nothing more than to make her happy, too. To make her feel like they were the only two people on Earth for the night. And it had been a long time, of course, and his experience wasn't all that extensive in the first place, but he was going to do his best to give her the best fuck she'd ever had.

_I'm a little shy, but I know you know  
_ _I haven't done this too much 'cause I've been alone_

He gently pulled a lock of her hair into his hand as he licked his own lips. His other hand held the hem of her shirt between his index finger and thumb. "Take this off," he whispered.

Michonne made no hesitation of pulling her tank top over her head and throwing it to the side, finally revealing her naked torso to him. Her gorgeous dark skin was a sight to behold, and Rick instantly wrapped his hands around her flat stomach. He held her as he stared up at her supple breasts, her hardened nipples just begging to be sucked.

He pulled himself up and immediately ran his lips across her chest. He took one of her tits into his hand, circling her areola with the tip of his tongue, sucking fervently at the rigid bud; fondling her left breast while his dick went hard again. It didn't make sense how perfect she was. How good it felt to feel her and taste her skin. She lifted his head to hers, pulling him into another kiss, and he sucked at her plump lips, feeling as though he couldn't get enough of her. She reveled in the feel of his mouth, the way he inhaled her as he moved across her face, lapping at her flesh, and back down to her chest, lightly biting her breasts.

Rick barely broke contact as he lifted Michonne from his lap, the two of them switching positions so that she was on the floor, with him top. He kicked his boxers from his knees and wasted no time pulling Michonne's shorts down as well. Slow and seductive, he rolled them off with her panties and threw them somewhere near the door. A smile tugged at his lips as he took in the sight of her bare pussy. Her endless brown skin was on full display, her naked body ready and waiting for him.

_I'm feeling this devotion, touching your emotion  
_ _I can see the love run right out of you_

He kept his eyes on her as he ran his finger down her bikini line. She lifted her head in response, wanting him to go further, faster. And he did, his index and middle fingers lightly massaging her clit, slowly moving up and down as her body shivered in response. He used the other hand to stroke his dick, more eager than ever to get inside her.

_Moments like these are golden, never felt so open  
_ _Even if I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming with you_

He was staring at her hungrily, and Michonne widened her legs, opening herself to him, ready for him. He took the opening, so to speak, lifting her hips ever so slightly, and pushed himself inside, gently and carefully. Just the tip at first, so she could get used to him, both of them groaning louder the further he went. She was wet and tight to the touch, and he was delightfully hard. Michonne almost cried out when he began to thrust slowly.

"Fuck," she managed to moan as she wrapped her legs around him, wanting to pull him closer. Deeper.

"Goddamn," he whispered, burying his face in her chest. He sucked her tits hard as he began to find his rhythm, and he used his hands to pin her arms against the floor.

He felt so good inside her, Michonne didn't know what to do with herself. She was so tight around him, she could feel every line, every ridge, every curve of his cock, and he was hitting all the right spots every time he pushed into her. And the way he had her restrained against the floor only made it even hotter. "Rick," she moaned.

_So breathe my air and kiss me there  
_ ' _Cause I'm a little cold, but I'll warm up with you_

Rick could tell she was on the verge of climax by the way she was breathing, jagged and unsteady. Her walls were clenched around him so tight, he was hardly holding on himself. He was ready to explode again, but he wasn't ready for her to let go yet. He gave her collarbone one more kiss before hesitantly pulling out of her, then sat up on his knees.

" _What_  are you doing?" she panted, trying to use her feet to coerce him back to her. "I was so close."

He was eyeing her soaking wet pussy, licking his lips as he answered, "I know." And without another word, he dived between her legs, beginning to tongue her labia, while licking up the juices that had dripped down her. She was so wet, there was enough to swallow, and he did so happily. Hungrily. He pushed his finger into her center, while his lips sucked lightly at her clit.

"Shit," she called out, much louder than she intended. But she couldn't help herself, as his mouth had taken her by surprise. "Oh god," she whimpered.

_Heart out my chest when you put it there_

He had to stop and smile for a moment, proud to elicit that reaction from her, and lightly kissed her inner thigh as she squirmed in his hands. But he went right back into her, softly rolling his tongue around her sensitive bud like a wet feather. Sucking it repeatedly, a bit more forceful each time, and then flicking his tongue against it with longer strokes. Over and over again. He ignored the minor pain of Michonne's tight grip on his hair, figuring it meant he must have been doing something right. And when he moved his tongue sideways across her clit, she began to close her legs on his head, and he knew it was true.

"Oh my god," she cried out, twisting and turning beneath him. She could hear him moaning as he ate her out, and the sound of him enjoying her was the sexiest thing in the world to her. She felt the vibration of his moans inside her pussy. She felt him exhale against her, his warm breath just making her wetter. Trying to stay quiet was becoming impossible. She fondled her nipple with one hand, the other still tangled in Rick's hair as her body writhed against the floor.

Her excitement only encouraged him more, and he used his tongue to lick her from the top of her clit until he reached the end of her cunt, then back up again. "Oh god," he mumbled into her softly.

He was in so deep, she could feel his nose inside her, and she desperately wanted to scream. But her quivering legs relayed the exact same message - he was driving her insane. "I'm gonna die," she whispered.

He couldn't help but smile again when he felt her delicious warm nectar on his tongue, and he brought his assault to a slow halt. He softly held onto her thighs as he pulled back to get a look at her face, finding himself utterly satisfied to get her off in that way.

He wasn't sure where all his sudden adventurousness had come from. He liked sex, of course, but he and Lori certainly never had a lot of it. Not at the end, especially. He only ate pussy on rare occasions, as Lori was never particularly adventurous either. With him, anyway. So to see Michonne react to him this way was a little astounding. It was a relief to know he could make her eyes roll to the back of her head, but mind-blowing all the same. He couldn't wait to do everything with her.

_Yeah I'm a little cold, but I've warmed up with you_

"Tell me what you want," he demanded in a husky whisper, staring down at her swollen pussy lips.

She gazed back at him, unsure whether she could even move after what she'd just experienced. Not wanting to, anyway. But the way he was looking at her, she never wanted this to end. She sat up, purposefully slow as she turned away from him and bent over on all fours. "I want you inside me."

_I don't care too much for valentines  
_ _I just need your skin next to mine_

Rick let out a sharp sigh at the sight of her naked ass bent over for him, and he took his time giving her what she wanted. Instead, he rolled his tongue down her back, leaving slow, velvety wet kisses as his hands gripped her ass. His strong hands squeezing roughly at her juicy cheeks, pushing them apart as his lips continued between them. Teasing her with the idea of a rim job before continuing to her pussy once more. Smiling as she pressed against his face, both of them moaning as his tongue explored her slit from behind.

He quickly licked his fingers, using them to spread her open before inserting his cock again. Michonne moaned loudly at the penetration, while Rick grunted quietly, trying to stave off his orgasm. But she was so soft, wet, and warm, it almost wasn't fair. As he clutched at her hips and thrusted into her, he had to force himself to think of literally anything else. He tried to think of puppies, and baseball, and whether he remembered to lock the back door, but he was failing miserably. It was hard to concentrate on anything but the fact that he was deep inside Michonne's mouth-watering pussy, her magnificent ass slapping against his thighs, and he wanted nothing more than to cum all over her.

Michonne was clawing at the comforter, trying to hold onto something as he hammered into her. She could feel sweat dripping down the side of her face, and her thigh began to ache, but the pleasure was so very worth the pain. "Yes," she whimpered, squeezing frantically at her left breast, clenching her walls around his cock. "Rick..."

"Michonne," he groaned, burying his sweaty face in the center of her back. He licked up and down her spine, his dick still pounding into her like a drum. Steady, fast, hard. "Fuck."

"Shit," she was panting as she felt Rick's hands on her tits. "I wanna get on top of you."

"You sure?" he asked, reluctant to stop and switch positions again.

She nodded, not caring whether he could actually see her. "I wanna finish you off."

He certainly wasn't going to protest that. In fact, her words just aroused him more, and he immediately pulled out, sitting back on the floor while Michonne breathlessly turned to face him.

_I'm feeling this devotion, touching your emotion_  
_I can see the love run right out of you_  
_Moments like these are golden, never felt so open  
_ _Even if I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming with you_

"Lay down," she instructed, using her hand on his chest to push him backward. She enjoyed what a sweaty mess he was - they both were - as she crawled back on top of him. Michonne held onto his strong thighs as she got into place, slowly sinking down onto his cock. She squeezed her walls into a kegel as she did, and instantly began to rock against him.

"Fuck," he called out loudly. His face instantly went red and he clutched her ass hard.

"Shhh," she grinned. She rested her hands flat against his stomach and fucked him slow, moaning quietly each time she took him in.

Rick was the one losing it now, watching her body undulate on top of him, the way she rolled her hips, her hair covering her face, her tits just out of his reach. He simply could not control himself any longer. "I – fuck."

"What are you waiting for," Michonne whispered, reading his mind. She leaned down to kiss him, beginning to lose her rhythm as her clit unexpectedly rubbed against his shaft. Her orgasm hit her hard and fast, coursing throughout her entire body, and she could barely keep her lips on him as it did. She sloppily kissed mostly at his chin as she tried to keep grinding him, but her legs were slowly giving up. "Hurry up," she begged.

_So breathe my air and kiss me there  
_ ' _Cause I'm a little cold, but I'll warm up with you_

It was only a few more seconds before Rick was grasping her hips and a loud grunt escaped his parted lips, the same time that Michonne felt his warm load deep inside her, like a hot, sticky waterfall. His head fell back against the floor, and she collapsed against him, the two of them lost in reverie as he softly rubbed at her back again. Neither of them wanting to move, and probably couldn't, even if they did. And as their sweaty chests heaved together, trying to breathe normally again, Michonne began to quietly giggle to herself.

"What's so funny," he smiled down at her, halfway hoping she wasn't laughing at him.

"Nothing," she tried to shake her head, "it's just…" She giggled again, and let out a sigh before lightly kissing his chest. "That was definitely not five minutes."

* * *

Rick quietly snuck back into Michonne's room after a quick trip to the bathroom, finding her lying in her bed now, looking irresistible in all her naked glory. She was on her stomach, so her backside was the first thing he saw as he shut the door.

"You're really gonna sleep like that?" he called out to her.

"You really went to the bathroom like that?" she smirked, knowing he had ventured into their very communal hallway in an equal state of undress.

"It's four in the morning," he shrugged. "It was safe enough."

She smiled at his silliness, but was too exhausted to even open her eyes, much less engage him. "Get over here," she instructed tiredly.

"You want the comforter?" he asked, gazing at the floor and the mess they'd made of their previous bed.

"Just you."

He smiled as he padded across the room, turning off the lamp on her side of her bed before making his way to the other side. His side now, it seemed. And he climbed in, also laying on his stomach, his head facing her. She looked so perfect with her hair swept up from her face, her glistening brown skin on full display against the darkness.

"Hey," he whispered, hoping she would open her eyes.

She granted his unspoken wish, opening them slow to the beautiful man beside her, and she gazed into his baby blues like she'd never seen them before. "Hey."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I died and went to heaven," she sleepily grinned. She reached her right leg out, locking it around his left one. "How about you?"

"I don't think there are words for how I feel right now." He reached out to touch her as well, his hand on her neck as his thumb rubbed gently at her chin. "I need to know if I can knock on your door again tomorrow night, or is this just… this?"

"Rick…"

"I need to know," he repeated, his whisper softening even more. "I don't wanna expect anything more than you can handle."

"Rick," she called out to him, demanding his nervous gaze. "Listen, as much as I believe sex and love don't have to go together, I think it's been more than established that there's something here between us. So it was never gonna be 'just sex' with you. And I'm okay with that," she promised quietly. "I don't know what this turns into, but it's not just this. You and me are never gonna be  _just_  anything."

He nodded against his pillow, feeling relief at her words, and even more, the fact that she was looking him in the eye. He felt like she meant it. "You promise?" he asked, his voice so quiet, so vulnerable, it was nearly silent.

She rested her hand over his, feeling his sincerity with every fiber of her being, and she could only hope that he felt hers. She nodded back at him as she closed her eyes again. "I promise."

_Heart out my chest when you put it there  
_ _Yeah I'm a little cold, but I've warmed up with you_

* * *

Lyrics: "Warm" – SG Lewis


	13. Heart

**Chapter 13: Heart**

"Shit." Carl's eyes had popped open at the sound of Judith's low whimpers across the room, meaning she was awake for the day, and ready to be released from her crib. She was like clockwork, every day, right around dawn, raring to go. And usually, he didn't mind, because Rick would get to her before long, or he would take care of her himself, if need be. But now, he was incapacitated, and after a few minutes of waiting, and then calling out for assistance, it had become increasingly clear that they were on their own. His dad was gone, and whoever had the baby monitor was obviously not monitoring anything.

Carl slowly and carefully climbed out of bed, holding his chest as he padded towards his sister. "I'll be right back," he promised in a whisper, as if she would understand his words. He wished he could explain why he couldn't pick her up, why he was leaving, but he knew his words would be futile, so his promise would have to do.

As he crept into the hallway, he took note of the open bathroom door and checked that off of the small list of places his dad could be. He was hesitant to venture down the steps in his condition, and he didn't want to wake anyone by calling out, so he figured his next best option was to check with Michonne. Even if she didn't know where his dad was, she could at least take Judith.

He shuffled to the room next door to his and knocked lightly, before calling her name, equally as delicately. "Michonne?" He waited a full minute for an answer before knocking again, harsher than the first time. "Michonne?"

No answer.

It was almost seven, so it was just as possible that she was still asleep as it was for her to already be up and downstairs somewhere. "Where the hell is everyone?" Carl wondered out loud. He decided to quickly push Michonne's door open, just to confirm that she was gone, but instead, ended up with much more information than he ever bargained for.

His eyes darted around the dim room, trying to make sense of the fact that Michonne's bedspread was on the floor, her gray tank top crumpled in the middle of it. He had noticed the bed was occupied, and he probably should've just closed the door then, but his gaze caught his father's boxers a few inches away from Michonne's shirt, and realization began to slowly strike him. He couldn't stop himself from peering back at the bed, where he finally grasped that Michonne was asleep on his dad's chest, and just a thin sheet was halfway covering their obviously bare bodies. Carl's face immediately contorted into disgust as he turned out of the room, trying not to gag. "Gross," he muttered, hobbling back down the hall towards Carol's.

He knocked on her door hard, while his brain tried to expel the image he'd just seen. He could remember catching his mom and dad in a similar position one time, when they'd forgotten to lock the doors, and he woke them up in that instance, wanting to know what they were up to. Of course, that was before he ever knew what sex was, and they could shrug him off fairly easily. Now, the thought of his dad and Michonne doing… _that_ was nauseating. He wasn't sure what he would do if Carol opened her door and Daryl was somehow in her bed, too. He might have to just run away from home at that point.

He let out a sigh of relief when Carol came to the door fully dressed, with a notebook in her hand, as if she were already on her way out the door. She immediately frowned at the sight of Carl, and gazed into the hallway behind him. "What are you doing out of bed?" she demanded.

He rolled his eyes at the details that would ensue if he had to go into explaining it all. "Judy's up, and I can't do anything with her, so... can you get her?"

"Well where's your father?"

"He's busy."

Carol eyed him suspiciously as she opened up her notebook, fairly positive that Rick was free for most of the morning, and certainly at that time. "Busy doing what?"

"Stuff," he shrugged innocently, unsure what else to say. "...Things that I'm probably not supposed to know about," he added cryptically, hoping she would catch his drift.

Carol smirked at the information, her eyes darting towards Michonne's closed door as she recalled what she and Daryl had interrupted the prior afternoon. That also did a lot to explain the random noises she'd heard in the middle of the night, and she found herself smiling in amusement. She glanced down at Carl and softly held his shoulder. "Come on, get back to bed," she instructed, nodding towards his room. "I've got Judith."

* * *

It was another hour before Rick began to stir from his sleep, happy to find Michonne's body wrapped around his, as the morning sun streamed into her bedroom, bathing her face in its light. He yawned softly, attempting to collect his thoughts from the night before, but it was all such a wonderful blur, he didn't know what to do with it all. He and Michonne finally made it over that first hurdle, and now twenty more were staring back at them. All he could think about was what would happen next? Was she his girlfriend now? Would she want to be called that? Would they tell anyone? Would they tell everyone? Was there anything to tell yet? He had so many questions, and he knew there was no time to answer them at the moment.

With the sun being up, it surely meant Judith was, too, and Rick was surprised he hadn't heard a peep out of her yet. But he remembered that that baby monitor was likely buried under a pile of bedding on the floor, and he'd been sleeping hard, he could've missed just about anything at that point. He needed to get up.

"Michonne," he called out to her in a throaty whisper, attempting to ease her out of her slumber.

She sighed when she felt the light scratch of his fingers on her back, and she realized their bodies were stuck together once again. Their fully naked bodies, reminding her of what had transpired the night before, and once again, she desperately didn't want to move. "What's wrong," she groaned into his chest.

"I should get up," he was hesitant to say. Moving from beneath her was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.

"Why? What time is it?"

He lifted his free left arm to glance at his watch, hoping it was somehow earlier than he thought. "Almost eight," he sighed disappointedly.

"Shit." Michonne covered her face with her hand and exhaled, tired and frustrated, because it was definitely time to get up. "Time flies when you're having fun, I guess."

"So it would seem," he smirked.

She slowly began to roll her body to her right, gazing up at the ceiling as she felt Rick descend from her bed. "I can't ask this once we go out there, but you are coming back tonight, right?" she questioned hopefully, glancing at him now. It was such a strange, wonderful feeling to have Rick walking around naked in her bedroom.

He nodded emphatically as he found his boxers in the clutter of the floor and stepped into them. "Yes. Of course."

"I kinda just wanna stay right here all day then, waiting for you."

"Now there's somethin' to think about," he said, licking his lips. He threw the comforter out of his way to retrieve the rest of his belongings, and then made his way towards Michonne's side of the bed. He gently placed his hand on her stomach as he leaned down for a kiss. Soft and sweet, just to say good morning and goodbye before he headed out of the door. "I'm gonna make some breakfast."

She couldn't help but smile at how utterly domestic that sounded. And as he pulled up, she took his hand into hers before he could turn away. "Rick, last night was... it was perfect," she declared, looking down at his hand, and the ring that adorned his fourth finger. "I don't know what I expected it to be, but I'm just... I wanted to make sure you knew that – that I'm really happy right now. I'm happy that it was you."

Rick felt his stomach doing backflips as she spoke, and he smiled down at her, feeling quite the same. "I wish we'd figured this out sooner," he said, rubbing his face with his free hand. "Or I wish I had."

"It doesn't matter anymore," she promised, her voice low but confident. "And maybe everything else had to happen to get us here. I don't know. But I'm just glad everything is out in the open between us. And I do mean _everything_ ," she joked, knowing he'd probably seen her cervix at that point. "So I guess I'm trying to say thank you."

Rick nodded, happy and in agreement, and he rubbed his thumb over her fingers. "You don't have to thank me, Michonne."

"No, I do. Because I said I trusted you, and then I didn't," she had to confess. "I got scared, and I wanted to run, and you wouldn't let me. So I do."

He lightly squeezed her hand and nodded again. "I have a lot more to thank you for, but I'm gonna take that."

"Go check on the kids," she grinned, letting him go. "I'll make breakfast."

And with that, and an uncontainable smile on his face, Rick continued out of Michonne's room and back to his own, where he expected to find his kids still asleep, considering the lack of sound as he approached. Instead, he walked in to see that Judith was gone, and Carl was in his bed, reading a book.

"Hey," he greeted his son tentatively as he gazed around the bright room. "Where's your sister?"

"Carol came to get her about an hour ago," Carl answered flatly, not looking up from his reading.

Rick nodded, noticing that there was a bowl sitting on his nightstand, probably containing remnants of some cereal or another. "You ate?"

"She brought me some Apple Jacks," he confirmed, sighing in annoyance.

He nodded again as he moved across the room towards their shared dresser, grabbing his jeans and a fresh t-shirt to put on for the day. "Well Michonne is gonna make some breakfast, so if there's anything you want, you let me know, and I'll see what she can do."

Carl rolled his eyes at the mention of Michonne's name, and the fact that his dad was really going to pretend that nothing was going on. He sat his book face down over his legs and stared at his father expectantly. "So you're just not gonna say where you were all night?" he demanded, frowning at his back. "Why you didn't come when I was calling you this morning?"

Rick stopped in his tracks, and turned back to his son, surprised by both his tone, and the information he was hurling at him. "I didn't hear you calling for me," he answered regretfully. "I'm sorry about that."

"And where were you all night," Carl pressed, wondering if his father would tell him the truth.

"I fell asleep in Michonne's room," he answered both honestly and cryptically. "Did either of you need me?"

"No," he shook his head, his eyebrows knitted irritably. "I didn't even know you were gone until Judith woke up. That's not the point."

"Then what's the point?" Rick chuckled, a bit perplexed, and a bit amused with his son's attitude.

"The point is that you just left, and didn't say anything."

"I was next door, Carl. I didn't even go far enough to put shoes on."

"Or clothes, apparently," the teenager mumbled, trying not to throw up as he thought of what he'd seen that morning.

Rick didn't catch his words, but he's certainly caught his biting tone, and the fact that he was talking under his breath. "If you have somethin' you wanna say, I suggest you say it," he shot back. He wasn't willing to let Carl ruin his good mood.

Carl stared at his dad for a moment, watching as he grabbed a fresh pair of underwear, and threw them to the bed with the rest of his clothes. "Are you and Michonne together?" he questioned bluntly, having no interest in beating around the bush. It already felt like he was the last to know, and he didn't like it. "Is that why you were so uninterested in Jessie all of a sudden?"

It was Rick's turn to frown now, unsure what to say, or how to say it in a way that Carl could possibly understand. He barely grasped the concept of what was happening himself, so it would definitely be a hard sell for his teenaged son, who didn't understand any of the nuances of relationships. "Carl..."

"Before you tell me some version of 'nothing's going on,' I should probably tell you that I saw you guys," he revealed.

"You _saw_ us?" Rick repeated for clarification.

"This morning. I was looking for you, and when I didn't find you, I went to Michonne's room," he explained, staring at the blank television screen instead of his dad. "I knocked, and no one answered, so I just... opened the door to make sure she was gone. And there you guys were." He shuddered at the thought as his dad came to sit down across from him. "So don't tell me that it's nothing."

"I wasn't going to tell you that," Rick promised, sighing heavily. "I know you're not a child anymore, and I trust you with the truth-."

"When you're caught, you mean."

"Better late than never," Rick shrugged, looking up at him a bit playfully. "But the truth is, we don't know what it is, son. This is all very new, and we haven't gotten to that part yet."

"But how can you have sex if you don't 'know,'" he asked, his tone finally softening as he looked over to his dad. He believed he was being honest, but he didn't understand that part of it. "That's what you did, right?"

Rick exhaled tensely, halfway wishing Michonne was there to have this conversation with them. She was much more eloquent than he could ever try to be. "It is," he admitted, looking around the room for some way out of the conversation. "And things get complicated when you've been friends for so long, and you're trying to come to terms with feeling more than that."

"So do you love her?"

"I do," he admitted, his face wrinkled into a serious frown. "And I… I dunno, it took a while for me to see it. Probably because I'm so used to running and not feeling things. But yes. I do."

Carl stared back at his father, surprised to hear him actually admit such a thing. He was proud of him for saying it so easily. "And she feels the same way?"

"Yeah."

"So then what's so complicated about it?" His big blue innocent eyes were boring into his dad. "After all this time, you don't know whether you wanna be together?"

"Well, because relationships are difficult," he sighed, scratching nervously at the back of his shoulder. "And if it doesn't work out, for some reason... for whatever reason, it changes everything. The world is small, and you've gotta keep the people you love close," he spoke genuinely. "Michonne is the most important person in the world to me, outside of you and your sister. And I think we just wanna make sure we get it right."

Carl nodded, relieved to know that his father wasn't ruining things, but actually working to make sure everything stayed okay. He liked the idea that his parents could potentially be together in that way - even if actually seeing it disgusted him - but that they were attempting to go about it carefully. "Cool," he shrugged.

Rick chuckled at the fact that he just told his son way more than he needed to know about his and Michonne's relationship, and that was his only response. "Cool? That's all I get?"

"I was confused," Carl said nonchalantly. "And I thought you were being secretive, or maybe stupid, which was making me mad. But now that I know what's going on… yeah. Cool."

"All right then," he smirked, picking up his clothes as he stood from his bed. "Cool."

* * *

Michonne strolled into the kitchen after a quick shower, pleasantly surprised to find Carol and Morgan sitting at their dining table, several sheets of paper amongst them, while Judith sat between them, shuffling said papers back and forth, looking happy as a clam. She wasn't sure what was going on, but it was a pretty adorable sight, nonetheless.

"Good morning," she greeted the three of them cheerfully.

"Good morning," Morgan responded, raising his coffee cup to her before taking a long sip.

Carol glanced up at Michonne, smiling warmly, though it showed mostly in her eyes, as it often did when she was genuinely happy about something. "Hey," she chirped. "You're up late today."

"I know," she shook her head as she approached the table, her eyes scanning their work. "I think sleeping in the infirmary finally caught up with me. It was nice to be in my bed again."

"Yes, I can imagine," Carol smirked, having observed the grin that wouldn't leave her friend's face. "But you wouldn't know it now."

"You look very well-rested," Morgan submitted, nodding along with Carol.

"Radiant," she agreed. She moved her own coffee mug out of Judith's reach and gestured towards the baby as she looked back up. "Have you seen this one's father, by any chance? He's been missing in action all morning."

"I… believe he's taking a shower," Michonne answered, suddenly feeling as though she were under a microscope. The fact that Carol had Judith, and didn't know where Rick was, she was probably giving her secrets away without even meaning to. "I think."

"Oh. Did he just wake up, too?"

"Carol…" Michonne chuckled knowingly, shaking her head again. She walked to their side of the table to take Judith off of their obviously busy hands. "Have you two had breakfast yet?"

"Just some cereal for the kids," she nodded towards the toddler. "I'm sure Carl would like something else, but we told Rick we would get this done before he returned to work," she explained, referring to the wall expansion plans laid out on the table. "So I didn't have time to do more than that."

"Oh please, I'm sure he's fine." Michonne made a silly face at Judith as she took her into her arms and began to pull her high chair out of their way. "I thought I would make some muffins, but I'm open to any requests. Carl will eat anything."

"Well you still haven't made those beignets you promised us," Carol reminded her, waving to Judith as the two of them moved towards the kitchen.

"Uh oh, don't tell me you can make those," Morgan grinned, looking up from the table. "A couple of beignets with some hot cocoa when it gets cold… I'll be over here every single day."

"I've never had them before," Carol admitted, smiling in his direction, "but the way Michonne described them, I'm so anxious to try."

"Well," Michonne giggled, positioning Judith on her hip as she stood in the threshold of the kitchen, "It takes a few hours to prepare the yeast, so I can't do it now, but I can work on it for tomorrow. Or maybe for dessert tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"You got plans?" she smirked, turning to open their pantry.

"I thought you did," Carol called back. She grabbed her nearly empty coffee cup and followed after her roommate into the kitchen. "Am I crazy, or was tonight the night I was supposed to watch the kids?"

Michonne closed the pantry door and spun to face Carol, trying to recall what she could be referring to. The only plan she ever mentioned to her was dinner with Aaron and Eric, but they were scheduled for the following evening. "I did say Wednesday, right?" she wondered out loud, her face scrunched in confusion.

Carol nodded as she went to the coffee machine to pour herself another cup. "You did," she acknowledged. "I know the days are all a blur now, and don't really matter at all, but… today is Wednesday."

She opened the pantry door again, and shut it just as quickly, staring down at Judith, and then over to Carol. "Is it really?"

"Yes," she laughed lightly. "Your timing is all over the place today."

"My mind is somewhere else completely, I guess." She ran her hand over her face, trying to shake away her distracting thoughts about the night before. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Carol waved off, smirking to avoid a full on smile. She walked past her friend to grab the sugar, lightly squeezing her free shoulder as she did. "Good sex will do that to you," she quietly added.

Michonne shot her head in Carol's direction, a shocked smile on her face. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"You and Rick," she sent back innocently. "We're not acting like you two didn't have sex last night, are we?"

"I…" She giggled nervously, unsure of how to respond. "I did not know that we knew that, no."

"Well… I was pretty sure Daryl and I caught the opening act yesterday evening," she confessed. "But the noises coming from your room last night and the look on your face this morning would've given it away, anyway."

If Michonne's face could've turned red, it would've, but her smile relayed the same message. "Oh god," she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand to hide her nervous laughter. "I'm so sorry."

"You better not apologize," Carol teased, moving back behind her to return the sugar. "Especially if it was good enough to make you forget the date."

"Carol."

"I'm just saying, it's nice that someone's getting laid around here," she said somewhat seriously. "It's nice to see people _happy_." She stared down at Judith, grinning at the toddler as she thought about the year they'd had since she was born. Since Rick lost Lori. "You know, Rick and I have always had our differences," she said. "Probably because we're more alike than we care to admit. But I've always wanted nothing more than for him to be happy again. And I'm glad he figured out that it should be with you."

Michonne was confounded by Carol's words, as she had always been under the impression that she was pushing him in Jessie's direction. But it felt sincere, and her confused frown transformed to a thankful nod. "Thank you, Carol."

"We don't get a lot of chances, Michonne. Especially not now," she added, her voice soft but strong, as always. "Don't waste this."

* * *

"Hey, you."

"Hey," Rick called back, stepping up his walkway to see Michonne and Judith sitting on the front porch together. "What are you two doin' out here?"

"Just kickin' it," she shrugged. She was making good use of their rocking chair as she had begun to lull the baby to sleep. "Enid and Mikey are upstairs, visiting Carl."

He nodded, taking a seat beside his two favorite girls. He loved how comfortable Judith looked in Michonne's lap, just haphazardly laid across her as if she were her bed. "How are you feeling?"

A blithe smile crossed her face as she gently ran her fingers through Judith's hair. "I feel good," she assured him, glancing his way. "Really good."

"Yeah, me too," he grinned. He was glad to know that she didn't seem to be having any second thoughts about what happened between them, but he also knew that he what he was about to say could very well change that. "Listen, I didn't wanna freak you out, so I told Carl not to say anything, but... he knows about last night, Michonne."

She dropped her gaze back to Judith as she processed the information, and she could only laugh in response. She didn't even want or need to know how he knew, but given the fact that Carol was also onto them, what was there to say? "I guess our little secret isn't so much a secret, huh."

"That's if it ever was," he smirked, relieved that she didn't have an averse reaction to it.

"So is he… okay?" she questioned warily. "What'd he say?"

"I think he's fine with it," he sighed lightly, leaning over to rest his elbows on his knees. "More than anything, he was annoyed that I didn't tell him about us sooner."

"Did you explain why you didn't?"

"I told him we weren't sure what was happening yet," Rick nodded. "That we're still figuring it all out. He seemed satisfied with that answer."

Michonne nodded back slowly, taking in the fact that this was all happening. And fast. "Carol also knows," she decided to quietly reveal. "Maybe Morgan, too."

"What?" he laughed, turning his head toward her.

"Well, probably not Morgan, but Carol picked up on it as soon I came downstairs," she said, shaking her head. "And we also might've been a little bit loud."

"Well, I can't argue with that."

"I know she doesn't know how deep this goes…" She paused to smile at her unintentional double entendre, still rocking back and forth in her chair as she went on, "And that's fine by me. But this isn't gonna stay in this house for very long."

"Probably not," he agreed, staring at Michonne and Judith distractedly. "Is that all right with you?"

She shrugged again, smiling at him tenderly. "What can you do?"

"Nothin', I guess. Not until we do figure this thing out."

"And I don't want us to force ourselves to do that for the sake of anyone else."

"I don't either." He loved that they were on the same page; despite everything changing around them, between them, that was a constant.

"So I guess tonight is our first date," she noted, quirking an eyebrow at him flirtatiously. "You ready?"

"We've already gotten through the hard part, and somehow, that still makes me nervous," he chuckled, his face turning pink to prove his statement.

"You're scared to be a gentleman for a few hours?" she teased.

"I'm scared that I won't be able to sit next to you for a few hours without completely giving us away."

"And there you go being adorable again," she said, beaming at the compliment as she watched him stand from his chair. "Just think about how you get to have all the dessert you want when we get home."

"Oh, thanks," he smirked, already thinking about devouring her when they returned from their dinner. "That's what'll make tonight easier."

She turned in her chair with a mischievous smile as he headed inside their home, well aware that she had only made things harder. "I'll pick you up at seven!" she called after him.

* * *

Three hours later, Rick and Michonne were sitting across from Aaron and Eric, having enjoyed a delicious meal of braised venison and mashed potatoes, paired with good wine, and light conversation. It was the first time in months that the two of them had the opportunity to fully relax, and the first time ever doing so outside the company of the rest of their family. Michonne was mostly kidding about them being on their first date, but as she sat there in her purple sundress, and Rick in a white dress shirt that he went to the effort of ironing, it really did feel as though they were _out_. And it was a very welcome change of pace.

"So since you guys are actually here, I feel like I can comfortably tell you this," Eric announced, sitting back in his seat with his glass of wine.

"Don't do this," Aaron sighed, bowing his head.

"It's fine," he insisted, playfully hitting his partner's shoulder. "It's fine. Right?"

"It's so silly."

Rick smiled curiously at the couple and then over at Michonne, wondering what he could possibly have to reveal. "What is it?"

"It really is silly," Eric admitted, smiling in amusement at his own antics, "but there was a long stretch of time where I was about ninety percent sure that you two didn't like us."

"What," Michonne narrowed her eyes, laughing at the very idea, considering they were two of the few Alexandrians they genuinely liked. "Are you serious?"

"Oh, he's very serious," Aaron assured her, shaking his head at the fact that his boyfriend was confessing to it. "I mean obsessively serious."

"I'm so curious, and yet, nervous to know what we did - or rather, what _Rick_ did - to make you think that," she laughed. "Because I'm sure it has everything to do with him."

"Now wait a minute," he frowned at her ease with throwing him under the bus. "The man clearly said it was both of us."

"I'm just saying, only one of us has punched one of them in the face, so..."

"Yes, thank you for bringing that up," Rick playfully rolled his eyes. "Eric, why don't you tell us what _we_ did to make you think that."

"What he did," Michonne maintained, smiling sweetly as she took a sip of her wine.

The two dinner hosts laughed heartily, entertained by their banter as Eric conceded, "It actually was both of you. And it was only because it took you so long to accept our dinner invitation."

"I told him it was stupid," Aaron announced in defense of himself. "I know how busy you two are. It's a wonder you got over here at all."

"I was paranoid," he shrugged, shaking his head at himself. "But that was really and truly the only reason why."

"Oh god," Michonne giggled, "that's actually hilarious." It was something they hadn't thought twice about, as they were, indeed, very busy. "I'm so sorry you thought that."

"No, it's funny now, truly. Aaron would come home and the first thing he would say was, 'No, I have not gotten an answer yet.'"

"And I told him I wasn't gonna ask again," Aaron chuckled. "And then the Wolves happened, and Michonne got hurt, then the herd came through. He was finally forced to focus on something else for a few weeks, thank god."

"Well I can promise it wasn't 'cause we didn't like you," Rick laughed, looking over to Michonne, who seemed equally amused by the entire conversation. "You were the only two in the whole place that weren't completely clueless."

"Oh yes, we're well aware of how much you don't like the weaklings," Michonne teased, hitting his thigh beneath the table. "But we're actually really glad you guys invited us. I know, for me at least, it's really nice to see Rick Grimes finally relax." She glanced his way again, smiling at him affectionately while he shook his head.

"She acts like she's just so good at taking breaks," he scoffed kiddingly.

"I can't think of any two people more deserving of a night off," Aaron agreed. "I mean, besides everything you do for this place, after what you went through with Carl..."

Rick distractedly stared at his wine glass, turning it in aimless circles using its stem. His mind was on his son, and those couple of days where they weren't sure what would happen. "We're very lucky," he eventually answered, nodding as he looked over to Michonne.

"We are," she grinned, enjoying that he referred to them as a unit. A few months ago, he would've said 'I'm very lucky,' and neither one of them would've thought anything of it. "I can't even remember if we said thank you when you guys came by the infirmary to visit. But we really appreciated your support."

"No, you did," Eric assured her with a smile. "And even if you hadn't, we knew."

"I remember when we were watching you guys on the road," Aaron began to say, gesturing towards his guests, "and yes, I'm well aware of how creepy that sounds," he appended, receiving laughter in response. "But I remember being really kind of floored by the way you two held everyone up. And it was so clear that you could barely stand yourselves, but you just... kept pushing. It was amazing."

"Michonne, there was a point where you would just not take your eyes off of Sasha," Eric added. "It was clear how worried you were about her, and I asked Aaron, 'Do you think they're sisters? I bet they're sisters.' And he proceeded to tell me that that was racist," he chuckled.

Rick and Michonne laughed as well, and Aaron continued, "To be fair, we did also think Maggie and Daryl were maybe brother and sister. The familial bond between you all was so strong, we just kept looking for the blood relations."

"It's kind of funny, people look at us and have to get used to the idea that we're a family," Michonne remarked, setting her empty glass on the table. "But for us, it was never even a question. It sort of just... happened."

"It's a foreign concept to us because we kind of just lived here before," Eric nodded. "These have been our neighbors, and most of them are lovely, but... that's it. We never had a 'Governor' to conquer. Or cannibals. Jesus."

Michonne smiled, a bit ruefully, at all the horrible things they'd managed to survive. "You've heard about that, huh?"

"Oh, we've heard about that."

"But you know, once we met you guys, it started to make sense," Aaron submitted, gazing lovingly over at his boyfriend. "I saw what being on the road does to people. It bonded you all in this way that's unbreakable, and I realized that that's what it did for us, too."

"I thought you two were already together before this all started?" Rick cut in to ask.

"We were," Eric confirmed. "But we met through our job, which was a somewhat similar circumstance. It was hard to trust people. We weren't even sure whether to trust each other for a while, but once we did, it was just…"

Michonne glanced at Rick, and he was looking back knowingly at her as he continued his line of questioning. "So you both worked for the NGO you told me about?" he directed to Aaron.

"Our first post was in Liberia after the Second Civil War," he nodded. He instinctively reached out for Eric's hand, both of them rested on the table as he spoke. "We basically had to learn the ropes together. We were kids, really, trying to navigate this really tricky terrain, and we _had_ to work together. There were times I wanted to strangle him, but I also literally couldn't have done it without him," he recalled fondly, staring at the side of Eric's face. "And now, we've been inseparable for… Jesus, nine years now."

"Nine years," Michonne repeated, awed by the sheer number, much less, what they must have gone through in all that time. "My god."

"I was married longer than that, and that still sounds insane to me," Rick laughed in agreement, his eye catching his date's once more. "Maybe because I can't even remember my old life anymore."

"Speaking of which," Eric declared, hesitantly letting go of Aaron's hand to stand from his seat, "we were shocked to find out that you two didn't know each other beforehand." He quickly moved to where their wet bar was situated, grabbing another bottle of Shiraz for the table. "And then we find out you didn't even come to the group until almost a year later," he added, shaking his head as he poured Michonne a new glass. "I'm just done trying to read people at this point."

She nodded thankfully as she took a sip from her new drink. "Well, we do pride ourselves on being unreadable."

"But you read each other very well," Aaron remembered, picking up his own glass. "Except for when we first met. Things kinda went sideways in that barn."

"Oh, no, Rick was well aware of everything I was saying. He was being willfully ignorant that day."

"I was being belligerent," he corrected her, "because I was nervous. And also confused, because Michonne is usually just as skeptical as I am about these kinds of things," he explained to his dinner hosts. "So let me just say that I'm sorry for how many times I threatened to kill you that day."

"No, no, I always got it," Aaron promised, smiling up at the two of them. "And even more so now. But I knew, just based on watching you, that there would be hesitance."

"Just not the right hook," Michonne joked, grinning drunkenly at Rick.

"Yeah, not quite that."

"One thing that always makes me laugh about that night, is how patient you were with all our questions," she pointed to Aaron, "and all our pretty blatant rudeness. But the _second_ you thought Eric was in danger, you were like, 'Nope, fuck this. I gotta go.'"

Rick chimed in with his own laughter as he remembered that, too, and how confused they were about it. "You really did just completely abandon us. All bets were off then."

"Hey, I thought he needed me," Aaron chuckled, holding his hands up in concession. "And if I recall correctly, you did the exact same thing when Michonne was injured. You took the RV and totally left us to fend for ourselves."

"Yeah… I did that," he admitted, nodding as he downed a gulp of wine. "I didn't have a choice."

"The things we do for the ones we love," Eric grinned wistfully, a bit tipsy as well.

All of them were on their way to being drunk, but it didn't stop Aaron from glancing back at him awkwardly, wondering if he realized what he was implying. The two of them had conversed, more than once, about how Rick and Michonne were probably secretly in love with one another, but the idea was to keep that discussion between the two of them. So he indiscreetly cleared his throat, attempting to bring Eric's attention to what he'd said.

"Um, not that you… love… each other like we do," he finally submitted once he caught his boyfriend's point. "I mean, not that you can't. I just… I don't know anything."

Michonne and Rick both tried to suppress their laughter, Michonne covering her mouth with her hand as she watched Eric try to maneuver his way out of his slip-up. "It's fine," she promised, gazing over to Rick for what had to be the hundredth time that night. She was so in love with him, it was likely showing on her face, and the idea only made her smile wider. "You're fine."

"And now it'll be another year before we get you guys back over here for dinner," Aaron joked, sighing in pretend exasperation. "Great job, babe."

Rick took note of Aaron's pet name for his partner, and he felt almost envious, wishing he could address Michonne the same way. He was really enjoying their evening, and coming to recognize that he could truly get used to this. The two of them out to dinner, as a couple, with other couples, just enjoying the night. It was all out of a very boring pre-apocalypse dream, but it was something he craved now. Those things he hated doing with Lori, he wanted nothing more than to have them again. He covertly placed his hand on Michonne's thigh, rubbing his thumb against the fabric of her dress as he smiled down at the table. "I'm really glad y'all invited us over," he stated genuinely to both Eric and Aaron. "Hell, I'm glad you ever found us in the first place," he nodded. "But this was nice."

"It was," Aaron agreed, smiling warmly at the two of them. He sat his glass on the table and spryly hopped up from his chair with a clap. "Before you go, though…" His words trailed off as he disappeared from the table and went to his bookcase, pulling a medium-sized box from a middle shelf. He turned back to the small group with a happy grin on his face. "So somehow, we've ended up giving all our dinner guests parting gifts," he announced. "And granted, this is not quite the motorcycle we gave Daryl, I've been really excited to give this to you since I discovered it." He pulled a stack of pictures from his photo box, setting it on the table as he reclaimed his seat. It didn't take long for him to find the one he'd been searching for, and passed it across the table to Rick. "I don't even know if you guys knew Spencer was taking pictures at the party, but when I saw that one, I was just sort of… I dunno, intrigued."

Both Rick and Michonne gazed at the black and white photo of themselves. They were standing in Deanna's kitchen, at that strange party she insisted they all come to when they first arrived. Standing face to face, both of them had wide smiles on their faces, as if they had just finished laughing at something really funny. And Michonne was holding Rick's arm, looking down towards the floor, probably at nothing in particular, while Rick gazed down at her. It was a beautiful, intimate shot, that was, indeed, intriguing. It made the two of them smile in that moment, too.

Rick couldn't take his eyes off of the picture, realizing that it was the first time he'd ever seen the two of them together. They looked happy. And Jessie's words came to mind, in a strange hint of irony, considering his actions at that party. But she said it – how you can look at two people from afar and know that they're in love – and she was right. That photograph said it loudly and clearly. "Well look at that."

* * *

At the end of what turned out to be a lovely evening, Michonne and Rick casually strolled back towards their home, side-by-side, but with their usual friendly distance between them. Rick was toting their picture in his right hand, and he seriously considered taking Michonne's hand with the other. Maybe it was the wine that had him feeling more sentimental than usual, but he was enjoying the clarity that had come with their night out.

"What are you over there thinkin' about," Michonne smirked, having noticed his quietness as they walked. She was used to him being more talkative than not when they drank.

"I dunno, just stuff," he shrugged, smiling shyly.

"'Just stuff,'" she mimicked his southern twang, smiling in his direction. She hated how much she enjoyed the way he walked. And everything else about him, for that matter. "Stuff like what?"

"I was thinkin' about the old days," he answered honestly. He moved in closer to her as he spoke. "About how I used to be… I dunno, affectionate? Back in the old days. Is that the word?"

"You still are affectionate," she offered. "With your kids. With me, when we're alone..."

"Yeah," he sighed, finally deciding to take her hand, interlocking their fingers. "It just feels like I've gotten cold. Hardened. And I know I have to be sometimes, but I don't wanna live that way," he said. "It makes you old." He slowed their walk to a halt, Michonne stopping with him. And when he moved to face her, she took a step back, which made him chuckle. "What do you think I'm gonna do?"

"I thought you were about to kiss me," she timidly smiled back. "Like maybe you forgot we're in the middle of the street."

"I didn't forget," he answered seriously. "What I'm tryin' to say - or, I guess, what I _need_ to say is that I don't wanna hide, Michonne. I wanna love you out in the open."

"Rick, I'm all for public sex, but I'm not gonna fuck you on this sidewalk," she joked.

"That's very funny," he nodded, looking up at the dark, starry sky. "But I'm serious." He stared at her, demanding her gaze in return. "I want this."

"You want this... as in, what? You want us to make this official?"

"I do."

She let out a shaky sigh as her gaze dropped, and she moved in closer to him, resting her forehead against his. She held his face, rubbing at the prickly stubble of his growing beard. And she knew she wanted it, too. All of it. The long glances, the short kisses. The mindblowing sex, and the cuddling that came after they came. The silly, nothing fights, the dinners with friends, the camaraderie, the passion. The affection. The love. She nodded against him, her soft breath hitting his nose as she exhaled. "Me, too."


	14. Hands

**Chapter 14: Hands**

Another morning, another instance of Rick opening his eyes to what was becoming the familiar sight of Michonne's bedroom - the wide open space of it all, her mostly bare walls and clean floors, and the pleasant scent of fresh laundry, instead of a fifteen-year-old. He loved her room. And even more, he loved waking up beside her, his eyes focusing in on her lying on her stomach beside him, scribbling words on a notepad. He sleepily smiled at how she appeared to be so lost in thought, she was oblivious to the fact that he'd woken up.

"What are you writing?" he wondered out loud.

Her eyes immediately flitted in his direction, and a smile materialized, glad to know that he was awake, finally. "Hey."

"Hey."

She dropped her pen and leaned in to him, planting a kiss to the side of his lips. "Sleep well?"

"I did." Between the wine from dinner and the sex they had for dessert, there was little chance he wouldn't sleep well. "What are you writing?" he asked again, noting that she had avoided his question the first time.

"None of your business," she grinned again, amused with herself as she folded the bottom of the page to meet the top so that he couldn't get a peek. She then rested her face on his chest, looking up at him earnestly, hoping he would understand. "It's something I've been meaning to do for a while now, and when I woke up, the words finally came to me."

"So it's not a Dear John letter then," he joked, twirling one of her dreads around his index finger.

"Not. quite."

"And you're really not gonna tell me what it is?"

"Maybe one day," she granted, leaving light kisses on his bare torso. "But for now, until I'm done, I think this is just for me."

He gazed at her, wondering if she was somehow serious, given the fact that he told her everything. But when he recognized that she was quite serious, he began to nod slowly, almost impressed with her fortitude. "All right."

"It's not you," she promised. "It's me."

"We officially started this thing last night, and I'm already getting the, 'It's not you, it's me,'" he smirked. "Well, it was fun while it lasted."

"Shut up," Michonne giggled. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You're going on a run tomorrow," he corrected her, feigning sadness about it, complete with puppy dog eyes. "You're leavin' me here, all alone."

"That's a very cute face," she had to admit, "but you're not gonna guilt trip me into staying here."

Rick discreetly moved his hand between their naked bodies, finding her breast and gently fondled her nipple until it was erect between his fingers. "Can I coerce you into staying then?"

"That's tempting," she nodded against him, excited by his touch already. She loved the feeling of his hands on her body. But then she one-upped him by slipping her own hand beneath the covers, taking soft hold of his unwitting cock. She laughed when his head instantly lifted from his pillow in response. "You okay?"

"You just..." he exhaled sharply as she began to massage him with her palm, her warm fingers teasing his balls. "You caught me off guard."

"Good." She pulled herself up to her knees, not breaking contact with his dick as she moved her pen and paper from the bed, figuring it would be in the way sooner than later. "You wanna get on top, or me?"

The way she was stroking his dick, Rick wasn't sure he could even move. He was stiff already, and wanted nothing more than for her to sink down on top of him. "You," he nodded eagerly.

Michonne immediately threw the covers from his body and made her way on top, her perfectly thick thighs straddling his lean waist. Without warning, he brushed his hand over her slit, causing her to shiver excitedly. "I like it way too much when you do that."

"I like it way too much when you do anything," he smirked. He didn't hesitate to do it again, gently fingering her folds as she closed her eyes and let him work.

"We should hurry," she knew, considering the sun was on its way up. She wanted so badly to let his fingers finish their job, but time was of the essence with kids in the house.

"I don't like hurrying," he said, enjoying the look on her face as she writhed against his hand.

"Well do you like finishing," she shot back with a small moan when he dipped a finger inside her. "Oh, shit."

And then, just like clockwork, the sounds of children – their children – took them right out of the moment and into the room next door. " _Hey Dad, guess who's up_ ," Carl announced via baby monitor, unknowingly ruining what was turning into a very good morning for his parents.

"Goddamn it," Rick groaned angrily, his focus completely shattered. Despite the early hour, he yelled back to his son so that he'd know he was on his way, "All right!"

Michonne also hung her head in disappointment, hating that she would have to get off before she could get off. "I cannot wait until he's off of bed rest," she mumbled.

"Just one more week," he sighed, running his hands along her thighs. He really didn't want to let her go. "Maybe we can just finish really quick."

"Rick..." she smirked, trying not to full on laugh at him.

"You just said finishing is all that matters."

"As much as I would love to  _finish_ ," she admitted, slowly rolling off of his body, "the moment has passed."

He tried to hold onto her waist, to no avail, as she crept out of the bed altogether. "We can get it back."

"The best I can do is get the kids while you finish this one yourself."

"Are you serious."

"Cold world," she grinned.

He watched as she sauntered towards the dresser, grabbing a pair of panties, along with his favorite brown t-shirt to throw on for cover. "That looks good on you," he noted, mostly enjoying seeing the shape of her round tits and hardened nipples in the fabric.

"And look, it actually fits me," she teased, grabbing a pair of leggings from another drawer. "I just might keep this."

"Do me a favor and just stand right there for a minute." He was only half kidding as he pulled the covers back up and began to stroke his dick again.

"You're a dirty old man," she said matter-of-factly, ignoring his request as she stepped into her pants. "Use your imagination."

"I was." She shook her head playfully on her way towards the door, and he watched her intently, studying the way her ass moved in those leggings. "Walk slower," he called back.

"Goodbye," she chuckled, amused by his shamelessness.

With a giant sigh, he reached over to turn off the baby monitor while he made every effort to finish himself off.

Meanwhile, Michonne jovially went bursting into the next room, surprising both Carl and Judith with her upbeat demeanor. "Good morning!" she practically sang, pulling the equally happy baby from her crib before turning to the teenager. "Hey, you."

"Why are you in such a good mood?" he wondered, squinting at her suspiciously as he thought about the answer.

"I can't just be in a good mood? There has to be a reason?" She walked over to his nightstand to grab his empty water glass. "So cynical, you are."

"I'm not cynical," he shot back. "I'm just curious."

She smiled down at him, knowing that was certainly a true statement. "There's no reason in particular," she shrugged. "Maybe because it's beignet day!"

"It's way too early to be this happy, Michonne."

"All right, well me and Judith are gonna take our good moods downstairs, and maybe you should try getting another thirty minutes of sleep, my friend."

"You're trying to imply that I'm in a bad mood, but I'm not."

"Well, when we come back, you can prove it," she grinned, the two of them on their way out of the door already.

She and Judith padded downstairs, the infant babbling incoherently, probably about her brother's attitude, too, and they found their way into the kitchen. Michonne kind of enjoyed their new routine of hanging out while she made breakfast. Judith's high chair was still sitting at the counter from the previous morning, and she was already reaching for her seat before Michonne could get her there.

"You were clearly blessed with the patience of your father," she commented sarcastically. "Which is to say, none at all."

Judith laughed obliviously in response and Michonne began to retrieve the supplies for their breakfast. The yeast she'd prepared the day before, flour, sugar, canned milk, and most importantly, some sliced apples to keep Judith occupied. She heard footsteps on the staircase that she knew were either Carl's or Daryl's, as they were the tramplers in the house. And she found herself feeling relieved when Daryl walked in.

"This is becomin' a habit of yours," he greeted her, noting that she was in the kitchen more often than not these days. "You tryin' to take over for Carol?"

"I figure Carol can use a break," she shrugged. She moved to the stove as he passed by, beginning to dump the oil into her giant pot. "It's not easy keeping you people fed."

"Well, between you and me, you can do it full time if you want to. I actually look forward to your cookin'."

"Don't be mean," she grinned, glancing his way as he opened the refrigerator. "What are you doing up, anyway?"

"Just got home about an hour ago. Tried to sleep, got hungry."

"Plenty of apples in there. Got a few strawberries and pears, too."

He nodded and grabbed an apple from the middle shelf of the fridge before shutting it. "I miss peaches, man," he casually declared as he turned and leaned against the counter, opposite Judith.

"That an old girlfriend?" Michonne joked, her good mood showing no signs of slowing.

"Stop," he rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his fruit.

"No, you're right. That was actually one of the best parts of living in Georgia."

"Peaches and pecans," he nodded. He winked at Judith as she offered him one of her apples from across the island counter. "You can keep that one, Lil' Asskicker. I got my own."

"You should take it," Michonne advised. "She'll be mad if you don't. She likes to share."

He scoffed in amusement, accepting the extra apple slice as Michonne came to join them. He'd thought it when he walked in, but it became clear, when she turned to face him, that she was wearing Rick's shirt. "Guess that runs in the family, huh?"

She smiled in response, but was unsure of what he meant by that. "What makes you say that?"

"You and Rick sharin' clothes now," he nodded towards her top.

"Well aren't you observant, Detective."

He finished his apple slice, smirking as he ignored her question. "So you two just fuckin', or you finally givin' somethin' a try?"

"Oh, don't say 'finally' like it's just been  _so_  long."

"It's been a year," he shot back flatly.

"A year where I spent a lot of time on the road," she defended them. "I was barely even at the prison."

"And he looked like a lost puppy every time you left, and you looked like you were being found every time you came home. It's been a long time comin', 'Chonne."

"Well." Her grin widened as she gazed down at Judith, and she couldn't disagree with that. "I guess it's good we finally figured it out then."

* * *

"I was mad at you, you know."

Michonne glanced up at Carl incredulously, wondering where that declaration had come from. From what she could tell, they'd had a lovely breakfast, and were halfway engaged in a lackadaisical game of I Declare War, where no one was mad at anyone. "And when was this?" she decided to ask.

"Yesterday."

"I barely even saw you yesterday," she frowned. "What could I possibly have done to make you mad?"

"That's exactly it," he revealed as he threw down his next card. "You and my dad drop this huge bomb on me, and then you totally avoid me all day."

"I wasn't  _avoiding_  you," she shot back, without thinking. But she had to reconsider when she recognized that it was quite unlike her not to see her buddy for an entire 24 hours. "Well, all right. Maybe a little."

"See?"

"But not purposely. I think I was... I don't know," she sighed softly. "Nervous?"

"About talking to me?" His face scrunched in confusion as he collected his winnings. "Why?"

Her face wrinkling similarly and she shook her head. "I don't know. I really don't. But once your dad told me you knew, I'll admit I got a little antsy about the whole thing."

"I hope he told you that I wasn't protesting it or anything..."

She nodded, dispensing her next card at the same time as him. "He said you were okay. But... I know you, and I know you must have had… questions."

He smiled that innocent smile of his when he realized how well she did know him, in fact. "Well yeah."

"So I think my brain was just a little scared to go there yesterday. I was still processing everything."

"Well I wasn't gonna grill you." He laughed when he thought of how he did like to inundate her with questions. "There were just some things that I wanted to hear from you. So when you went to dinner without even saying anything, I knew you were avoiding me."

"Well I'm sorry," she said seriously. "You know you can come to me anytime you're feeling unsure about something. That doesn't change."

He watched her for a moment as she organized her pile of cards, and a million questions were swirling around in his brain, just itching to get out. "So what does change?" he decided to start. "I mean, besides the obvious that you're my dad's girlfriend now."

She smirked at the strangeness of being called someone's girlfriend again. Even though it was rare that she was addressed that way with Mike, she did always enjoy the title. "I don't really know what changes," she sighed again. "Not a lot, I imagine."

"Well my dad's gonna move into your room, right?"

"Probably," she shrugged. "Unless you want him to stay."

"God no," he immediately shot back, laughing as they both drew Jacks. "Ready?"

"Yep."

Simultaneously, the two of them pulled four cards, one at a time as they chanted, "I. de. clare. war."

"I win," Michonne grinned, her King beating his Nine.

"You lose, because you have to listen to my dad snore now."

"Your dad does not snore," she chuckled, shaking her head. "You're the one that holds full conversations in your sleep, by the way."

"I do not."

"You definitely do," she recalled, thinking of the many days they'd spent on the road. "I think you narrate your dreams or something."

"Well," he said, blushing, "maybe I'm just trying to keep Judy entertained. Have you thought about that?"

"Is this really the hill you wanna die on?"

Carl gazed up at Michonne, frowning in confusion, as if she'd spoken to him in French. "What does that mean?"

"It generally means you should pick your battles." She pushed his winning hand towards him since he didn't seem to notice he'd won it. "In this case, I'm saying maybe… you shouldn't defend bullshit."

"Fair enough," he chuckled, nodding at the sound advice.

"Good rule for life."

The continued swapping cards for another few minutes, Carl watching Michonne as she happily played her hands. She would gaze at Judith, playing in the middle of the floor every now and then, and then return her focus to the game. "Hey, Michonne?"

"Yes, Carl?" she asked, mimicking his inquisitive tone.

"Do you think you and my dad will have a baby?"

Her eyes darted up at him, and she nearly choked on the air. "What?"

"I mean, not tomorrow or anything, but do you think it's possible? In like the next year or so?"

"Dude, we started dating yesterday," she shook her head. "I think it's possible," she granted. "It's also just as possible me and your dad are broken up in a year."

Carl rolled his yes, shaking his head back at her. "You don't really think that."

"You don't know what I think."

"I know if you thought that, you wouldn't have started this in the first place," he shot back, collecting another pair of cards. "If you don't wanna talk about it, I get it. But please don't just dismiss me."

She stared back at him, enjoying how candid he was with her, always. Perhaps that was something Rick had learned from his son. "You're right," she conceded, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm sorry."

"Have you even told my dad about Andre yet?"

"I have," she confirmed, nodding slowly as she set down her set of cards. The conversation had moved past their game, and she wanted to give him her full attention. "When we were sitting in that infirmary, waiting for you to wake up, I told him everything. Everything I'd never said before."

Carl's eyes widened in amazement. "Really?"

"And he told me things he's probably never said to anyone either. I think we kinda just opened up the floodgates while we were sitting there."

"Well… how come you never told me you loved him?" he submitted curiously. That was probably the most surprising part of the whole thing. "In  _that_  way, I mean."

"I didn't know," she revealed. She wanted to smile and cry at the same time when she thought about all the time she and Rick spent denying their feelings. "I didn't wanna know."

"Why not?" he pressed.

"I… thought he loved someone else. So I was trying to play it safe."

"You can control it that way?"

"No," she shot back, smiling ruefully. "And that was the problem. It took you getting shot for us to finally pull our heads out of our asses. For us to really open up to one another."

"So what you're saying is,  _I_  brought you guys together," he grinned proudly. "Is that right?"

She had to chuckle at the fact that he was giving himself credit for their relationship. But the truth was, if it weren't for Carl, they might've never even tried to get to know one another. "That is… a fairly accurate statement."

"I didn't actually expect for you to agree with me."

"Well now you know that you don't know everything," she winked.

Judith began to talk her baby language in their direction, and Carl looked down at her with a wide grin. He was so happy to know that she would have a mother, the same way he did. That their family inside the family would be complete, and he wouldn't have to worry about his parents running off and falling in love with someone else. They would be together.

"Do you want me to call you Mom?" he wondered, those big, bright blues gazing at her expectantly.

She stared back at the teenager, completely at a loss for an answer. She didn't want to encourage  _or_  discourage such a thing, and she really didn't mind either way. "Do you wanna call me Mom?"

He shrugged, his eyes darting around the room now. "I dunno."

"I'm fine with whatever you feel comfortable with."

"Well I knew you first as Michonne, so I think that's what I'll call you," he nodded. "But I think Judith should call you Mom."

"Okay," she laughed at his obviously careful analysis. "Well, we'll see what she decides then."

"I know she'll do the right thing," he grinned at his own joke.

"You're so silly."

"By the way, I thought of something I'd like you to get while you're out on your run," he remembered to say. "If you can."

She couldn't imagine what he'd be asking for that might be difficult to find, but she did say he could request anything. "What is it?"

"Balloons."

"Balloons?" she chuckled lightly, glancing over at Judith again. "What the hell do you need balloons for?"

"It'll be Judith's birthday next week," he revealed, his voice turning quiet and somber. "I want her to have a birthday party."

Michonne grinned brightly at the fact that this teenager, who'd been through more than anyone person should, may very well have been the most thoughtful person she knew. She loved the way he loved his sister, especially, and she really wanted this for both of them. She nodded in agreement, hoping she'd be able to come through. "Balloons it is then."

* * *

"I wish I'd known there were only two seats in this van before I volunteered to go on this trip," Michonne declared. She and Rick had used the excruciatingly early morning to prepare the vehicle for her impending run, and she had just pushed the last box of supplies into the back.

Rick approached her from behind, oblivious to anything she'd just said, as his full focus was on her ass, bent over the back of that van. Without warning, he pressed himself against her as his left hand caressed her left hip. "What time do y'all leave," he questioned quietly.

She immediately smiled at the contact and stood up straight, feeling his erection through his jeans as she pushed her entire body back against his. She took his left hand into hers, pulling his arm in front of her so that she could get a view of his watch. She was inwardly praying that they'd have enough time to do  _something_. "We're supposed to leave at five," she sighed.

"So twelve minutes?" he confirmed, taking in the time as well. "We can do a lot in twelve minutes."

"Not a  _lot_."

"Okay, not a lot," he agreed. He already had one hand roaming up her shirt, reveling in the warm skin of her stomach, sneaking upward, beneath her bra; the other went southward, slipping down her pants and into her panties. "But enough."

"Ahh, shit," she exhaled shakily as she felt his fingers roam over her clit. She lowered her head as he went deeper, and then his tongue rolled across the back of her neck. "Don't tease me right now, Rick."

"Does it feel like I'm teasing you," he smirked as he pressed her against his crotch again.

She couldn't contain her smile as she pulled out of his embrace and turned to face him, locking her arms around his neck as she kissed him hard and fast. "You're a terrible influence, you know."

"I don't think you have that right," he retorted, his lips grazing her nose.

She licked her own lips, grinning as she decided that they were really going to go for it. "Shut up and get in the van."

"Well that doesn't sound creepy," he joked, already following her instruction.

Together, the two of them crawled into the open space of the back of the van, Rick practically tearing Michonne's clothes off before she even finished closing the doors. He threw her shoes out of their way as she removed his t-shirt, trying to kiss any bit of skin she could reach as he moved around her. He peeled her tight jeans from her thighs, both of them laughing as they noted how difficult the task was, and she decided to help by just kicking them off herself.

"I think I know how to get your pants off by now," he declared, peering up at her playfully.

"We're in a rush."

"You wanna do this part, too?" he gestured towards his own jeans, sitting back against the wall of the van so that she could straddle him.

She did, in fact, and quickly crawled on top of him to unbuckle his belt, while he lowered the neckline of her shirt, along with the cups of her bra, letting her tits out to play. He lifted his hips, so that she could pull down his pants, freeing his throbbing cock before she blindly took it into her hands. Warm and thick and already slick, she stroked it gently while he sucked at her nipples, moaning into her skin as he did. Michonne could feel how wet she was herself as she pulled her panties to the side and eased herself onto Rick's awaiting dick.

"Oh god," she moaned out loud. She was already clenching her walls around him, pulling him deep as she sank down onto him. She exhaled hard when she felt his index finger on her clit, rubbing softly before she could even get started. "You're perfect," she smiled through her fog of desire for him. They had only fucked a couple of times, but he knew exactly how to please her already.

"I know," he mumbled, still running his tongue across her cleavage. He had to stop when she began to roll her hips, though, unable to concentrate on anything outside of the unbearable pleasure. Her warm, wet pussy circling his cock, the fabric of her panties rubbing against his shaft, he was practically losing it already. "Fuck, Michonne."

She loved when he said her name like that, his desperate fervor apparent as his warm breath bathed her neck. It made her wet, knowing that he was becoming undone. Especially because she always went with him. "Rick," she whimpered. It didn't make sense how good he felt inside her. She began to move faster, gyrating against him until she was practically bouncing, and he latched his tongue onto her throat, her tits pressed against his chest as she tried to hold onto her orgasm. "Touch me again," she panted through her strokes. "Like last night."

It didn't take much for him to reimagine their previous session, and having her bent over the bathroom sink as he fucked her from behind, fingering her at the same time. He nodded, groping her ass, and pulled her panties out of his way as his fingers slid along her swollen pussy lips and over her clit. He worked her slow, a deliberate contrast to her fast rhythm, knowing it would drive her out of her mind. He rested his head against the wall of the van, and he watched Michonne's face as her lips parted, her orgasm clearly claiming her body.

He smiled when he felt her slick cum coat his dick, and he removed his hand from between her legs. He kept his eyes on her as he licked his fingers, and she looked right back at him as she rode him to climax. She enjoyed his soft moans as she squeezed herself around him, and she kissed him hard just as he went still, and he came with a guttural grunt. He buried his face in her chest, and she laced her fingers through his curls as the two of them came down from their quick and dirty high, breathing softly through the haze of it all.

"Ugh," Michonne sighed heavily, resting her face against the top of his head. "I don't wanna go now."

"Don't," he mumbled into her neck. "Let's just do this forever."

"We will." She smiled to herself as she hesitantly pulled off of him and onto the hard metal floor of the van. "How much time do we have?"

Rick stopped pulling up his pants long enough to check his watch, and chuckled at the fact that they'd finished at exactly 5:00. "None."

She sighed as she grabbed her jeans and threw him his shirt. "Honestly, that would've been worth getting caught."

"You have no shame," he grinned, licking his fingers again.

"You're one to talk."

The two of them quickly and quietly finished getting dressed, and Rick used one of their packed flashlights to make sure they hadn't left any evidence of their quick tryst, before nodding for her to go ahead. But as she opened the door to the dark morning, she was met with Abraham's back, turning to face her with a giant smirk, and he was quickly joined by Rosita, Glenn, and Maggie.

Michonne couldn't help but chuckle, and she just turned back to Rick to warn him. "We've got company."

"What?" he scowled. Worried that walkers had somehow gotten back inside the community, he poked his head out of the door, only to find their friends staring back at him. "Oh. Hey."

"Hey, indeed," Abraham shot back, the amused grin not leaving his face.

"You could've told us you were waiting," Michonne declared, shaking her head at their audience.

"If there's one rule that still applies from the old world," Glenn submitted, his tone serious even though he was clearly joking, "it's, 'if the van's a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'."

"And no judgment here," Maggie added quickly. "I know how we used to be, so..."

"And now they're married and boring and just generally sad," Rosita chimed in, knowing the two of them basically only had sex in their bed now. "It's depressing."

"Well," Rick sighed lightly, hopping down from the van. He offered his hand in assistance to Michonne, but made sure not to let go as they stood before the small group. "Safe to say we're not quite there yet."

"That... is obvious," Glenn nodded, also trying to hold in a smile. He vividly remembered all the times Rick had caught him and Maggie in similar positions, and it was nice to have the tables turned for once. "So did you two need a few minutes, or..."

"I'm ready to go when you are," Michonne quipped playfully. She knew she was in for some teasing for the duration of the trip, and she was ready for it. "We packed everything up... beforehand."

"If I were you I'd give that van a few minutes to recover," Abraham interjected, laughing at himself again. "Maybe air it out..."

"You're an idiot," Rosita scoffed, still containing her laughter about the whole thing. She also actually loved that Abraham hadn't turned dour and angry, despite his injury. "We should go," she announced, turning to him regretfully.

"Stop makin' that face, Rosi." He used his one good arm to cover her shoulder. "I'll be fine."

"We should go," Glenn agreed. He took Maggie's hand, preparing to say his goodbye, and the other two couples followed suit.

Rick used the ledge of the van for a seat, and he gently pulled Michonne close to him. "You be careful," he instructed, his tone serious.

"I always am," she shot back, smiling down at him as she swung their clasped hands back and forth.

"Yeah, well last time you left here, you came back to me with a hole in your leg," he reminded her. "Get back here in once piece, all right?"

She nodded, leaning down to give him a quick kiss goodbye, holding his chin as she licked the taste of herself from his lips. It wasn't until she pulled away that she remembered four other people were standing there. "I love you," she said, not caring that she wasn't especially quiet.

Rick exhaled softly when her declaration hit him, awed by the fact that she was saying it loud enough for anyone to hear. He gazed up at her, his tired blue eyes shimmering in the darkness as he took in her smile. She was confirming that she wasn't afraid of this. None of it. He nodded back, and kissed the center of her palm before she could go. "I love you, too."

* * *

It was late afternoon on Saturday when Rick walked into his room - his soon-to-be former room - with Judith on his arm, and a look of determination on his face as Carl came into view. The teenager was listening to music on a laptop he'd undoubtedly gotten from Enid, completely unaware that his father and sister had entered and were watching him. Instead of uselessly yelling for his teenager's attention, Rick flipped the overhead light on and back off again, causing Carl to look up in confusion. He immediately removed his headphones, looking back at his dad and sister with a cautious smile.

"Hey..." he greeted them.

"Hey." Rick quirked an eyebrow back at him, moving across the room to take a seat on Carl's bed instead of his own. He wanted the three of them to be close for what he was about to do. "What are you listening to?"

"Some old deadmau5," he shrugged, offering a silly face to his baby sister as she reached for him. "Nothing you would know."

"Dead mouse?" Rick repeated for clarification. Even in the apocalypse, his son still had music taste that mystified him. "All right."

"Is that okay?" Carl asked hopefully as he pushed his laptop to the other side of his lap. "It's not that explicit."

"It's fine with me," he conceded nonchalantly. "After everything you've seen, I don't think a couple of lewd lyrics would do much damage anyway."

"There's nothing left to corrupt," Carl grinned at his joke. "I've got two bullet holes in my chest. Killed my mom. Almost eaten by cannibals..."

Rick couldn't help but chuckle at the fact that his son had picked up his grim sense of humor. "See what I mean."

"I'm joking, of course," he added. "I'm actually pretty happy, for the most part, you know."

"I do know that," Rick nodded, still pretty amazed by that simple fact. After everything, he had a happy kid. A teenager, no less. "You know, your mom was scared," he remembered, his voice going low as he contemplated a conversation they'd had back when the whole thing started. Carl had just gotten shot, and they were out on Hershel's porch, contemplating the meaning of life. His life, specifically. "She was scared you would never have a good life in this world," he told his son. "She thought you would either be hungry and scared all your life, or you'd turn into some heartless monster that knew nothing outside of survival." He began to absentmindedly wipe at imaginary dirt on Carl's bedspread as he stared at the floor. "She would be so happy to see you now, Carl. I can't even tell you." He nodded proudly at him and at Judith. "You're good. And you're smart. And you've miraculously managed to hold on to yourself - the good parts - even though this world has constantly tried to change you. To consume you. You've only gotten stronger. Your mom," he sighed, shaking his head, wishing Lori could've seen their boy now. "She would be proud."

"That's all I want," Carl intimated, staring at his sister as well. "I want her to look down here and be able to smile at us. To see that you're happy, and Judith is safe, and we're all okay."

"We are," Rick whispered. He balanced Judith in his left arm, while he used his free hand to slowly slide his wedding ring from his left ring finger. He stared at it briefly, thinking of the day he'd put it on, and how much had changed since then. "I'm gonna always love your mother," he avowed. "For as long as I live, for as long as you and your sister are alive, your mom is with us. But this is yours now." He handed Carl the thick silver band, nodding as he took it. "You keep it safe."

"I will, Dad," he promised, smiling at his new heirloom. "I promise."

"Good," Rick nodded, gazing down at Judith again.

"Can I wear it? Like on my thumb, maybe?"

"If you want to," Rick shrugged, adding an offhanded frown. "Of course."

Carl smiled to himself as he slipped the ring onto his left thumb, then wiggled his hand to see if it would stay in place. "Yeah?"

"I think it looks good," he confirmed, smiling at his boy.

Judith turned to see her brother's outstretched hand, and reached for him, already trying to pull off the ring for herself. "I think Judy is mad she didn't get it," Carl chuckled.

"Well maybe you give it to her one day," Rick offered. "It's up to you."

He nodded, playing with his little sister's little hand as he considered the option. "I think I'd like to keep this," he answered honestly. "For now, at least."

"That's fine."

"I just... I still don't know how I'll tell Judy about Mom. But she won't ever  _really_  know what she missed. And she'll be lucky, because she'll have Michonne," he said, running his thumb along Judith's. "So I'd kinda like for this to just be mine."

Rick stood from the bed with an oblivious Judy in his arms, and he ran his hand over his son's messy bedhead. "I think that'd be just fine, Carl."


	15. Hope

**Chapter 15: Hope**

"Hey," Rick cautiously called out to his girlfriend. He walked into their bedroom, finding her sitting at the edge of their bed, in tears, surrounded by paper and tape. He knew why she was crying, so he didn't want to make an issue out of it; he simply walked towards her and crouched to the floor in front of her. "You ready?"

Michonne took a deep, quivering breath and nodded, beginning to push the extraneous paper out of the way so that it wouldn't fall when she stood. "Yeah."

"You sure?" he pressed, gazing down at her leg shaking against the floor. "It doesn't have to be now."

"No, I want it to be today." She slowly stood from the bed and held her hand out to him, confirming that she wanted to do this, and she wanted to do this with him. "Carl and Judith are ready?"

"Downstairs waiting," he answered, standing again and taking her hand. "We finished decorating a little while ago."

"I'm scared to see what that looks like," she smiled, using her free hand to wipe at the tears on her cheeks and chin. "I was planning to do that myself."

He nodded at her teasing, and handed over the three unsealed envelopes she had left on the bed. "I think you're gonna need these."

"Yes." She sighed again, accepting them from him with a grateful smile. She wasn't sure how Rick would react to her suggestion, considering she had managed to involve his dearly departed wife in her shenanigans, but he had been supportive every step of the way. Even when she initially refused to tell him what she'd been writing, he trusted her, and he let it go. Everything about him that past week just reminded her why she had fallen in love with him. "Let's do this."

_I just kept hoping  
_ _I just kept hoping the way would become clear_

Together, the couple continued downstairs, where Michonne was pleasantly surprised to find that the boys had actually decorated their home quite beautifully. Pink and white balloons and streamers adorned the walls, mostly in corners of the room, so that it wasn't overbearing. And they'd collected these gorgeous pink lilies from outside the Alexandria gates to accent their decor. It was so unexpectedly elegant, she couldn't help but smile. "Nice job, boys."

Carl had been sitting on the couch with his baby sister, waiting for their parents to appear, and he stood to take in the view of their work. "It's super girly, but Dad said that's what you wanted."

"I wanted Judith to have something pretty," Michonne confirmed. She squeezed Rick's hand before letting him go, moving across the living room to investigate the mantle. Framed pictures were sitting on the ledge that hadn't been there before. One with Rick and Carl, another with Judith and Carol, and the frame in the middle was the photo of her with Rick that they'd gotten from Aaron and Eric. She smiled again, loving that it was the new focal point of their home. She stared at them for much too long, as if she'd never seen the image before. She just loved that candid, happy moment between the two of them. They probably had a million of those, before then and after, but she simply loved knowing that that was her life now.

_I spent all this time trying play nice, and fight my way here_  
_See I've been having me a real hard time  
_ _But it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be all right_

"We should go," she declared, turning from the mantle to face her family. "I still have to come back and decorate the cake before the party starts."

Rick nodded and gathered Judith from the sofa, along with the small shovel he had waiting for him at the door. Carl also grabbed his contribution to the morning - three wooden crosses he'd made from some scrap planks he'd gotten from Abraham. His dad had told him to bring along a few extra lilies, so he pulled them from the vase on the coffee table as well. And with that, they were ready to go.

* * *

Michonne was kneeled on the ground, staring at three small, square-shaped holes before her, and the crosses that bore them. Three burial plots, for all intents and purposes, in the area of Alexandria that served as their cemetery. From where she sat, she could see Noah's plot. Reg not far behind him. A few feet to her right were the spaces for Jessie and her boys. Behind them were three Alexandrians she hadn't known very well, along with Pete and Nicholas. It was insane how much death surrounded them. All those people in just a couple of months. She took a deep breath as she stared at the three empty spaces they'd just created.

"Are you okay?" Carl called out from behind her when he saw that she wasn't moving.

Rick immediately shushed him, knowing she likely needed space for this. Silence. "Let her take her time," he said.

"I'm okay," Michonne promised, turning her head towards him as she nodded. She was shuffling the three small packets around in her hands, nervously wondering where to start. How to start. But then she rolled her eyes at how indecisive she was being, and quickly decided on the envelope with Mike's name written in her cursive on the front.

She pulled her letter from its confines, and stared at the paper as tears unexpectedly began to blur her vision. This was turning into a much larger feat than she anticipated. Moving on. It was hard. But there was also nothing she wanted more, so she took another deep breath, and began her dear goodbye.

**Michael,**

**I've been thinking a lot about you lately, and the last time we spoke. Or at least, the last time I spoke, and heard you in my head. It used to be such a regular occurrence, and then you went away. I always wondered why you left when you did, after I found Andrea. Did you know that I was okay without you there? Were you tired of me being mad at you? Was I tired of being mad at you? I still don't know.**

**But that last time, after the prison fell, it felt like goodbye, and I don't want that to be the last thing I say to you. I didn't want that to be "it." Not after all the other things I'd said.**

**Mike, I loved you. I love you. I didn't show it at the end, too buried in my own grief, and I wish so badly that I could take it back. You were scared, and you needed me to be kind, and I was cruel. Seven beautiful years together, and you died thinking that I hated you. And I guess I have to be honest in the fact that I probably did, in some ways. But I didn't forget, and I will always remember the good days. So I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry, Mike. I wish I'd said it sooner, and I wish we could've ended on a better note. A happier note, if such a thing exists. But if nothing else, I hope you think of me as fondly as I do you these days. I hope you'll remember the Michonne Calvet that swept you off your feet that night at Kappa Karaoke. Because I remember you as the charming cellist that stole my heart after one afternoon at the High. You, with the immaculate smile and the giant heart. That's my Mike.**

**I can't say that I miss you anymore, but I mean that in a good way. I can think of you, and us, and it doesn't hurt. The ache has gone. But it's been a long, hard fight to get here, and I don't want to apologize for that. I'm sure you've watched me try to navigate this road, making mistake after mistake, so I do hope that you can be happy for me, knowing that I've found my way. When I said I knew the answer, I meant it, but I didn't realize it was staring me right in the face. I knew that I needed to heal. I needed to cleanse. And I have. I can see now that the answer was Rick.**

**You and Andre were the beginning of my story, and I will spend a moment of every day thanking the universe for that. Because there is no me without the two of you. But Rick and Carl and Judith are the next chapters of my life, and the most wonderful part of that is it's all unwritten, and I'm so unbelievably excited to see what comes next.**

**I hope you're happy up there. I hope you're okay. Because I'm okay. Finally.**

**-M**

The next envelope, marked Andre, she could barely hold steady in her hands. Her lips trembled as she held the paper close to her heart, as if it were her little boy, and her tears came hard, streaming down her face and chest as they dampened her letter. "God…" she sighed lightly.

Rick knew Andre's would be the one that truly stung, so he didn't hesitate to sit down beside her, both him and Judith reaching out to gently rub her back as she cried. "It's all right," he whispered.

She nodded, staring at the hole where she would drop his love letter in just a few short minutes. She wiped her tears, looking over to Rick, and then Judith. "I couldn't write this without crying my eyes out, so..."

"Cry," Rick encouraged as he settled into his position on the ground. "I'm right here."

She gave his knee a soft pat, then tapped Judith's cute little button nose before she began to unfold another sheet of paper full of words that would never adequately express exactly what was inside. But for her little boy, she had to try.

**My darling Andre Anthony,**

**There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think of you, little one, and I miss you so, so much. I often see your face in my dreams, or hear your laugh in my thoughts, and then I need a moment to collect myself, because I need that reminder that it's not real. You left a long time ago, and you're hopefully somewhere better, and that's all right.**

**I hope I was a good mommy to you, Peanut. I tried. God knows I did, even when the world was collapsing around us. I did everything in my power to keep you safe, and I'm so sorry that I failed you. I'm so sorry. I used to constantly do this thing where I would rewrite that last day in my head. I change it so that I never left you at that camp. I make it so that you're fine, and Daddy's alive, and nothing hurts. I fix it. ...But the reality is, I can't fix it, and I know that, and all I can hope is that you forgive me.**

**I've been trying to find the words for nearly two years now – the words to express my regret, my sorrow, my eternal gratitude for you. But I could never find anything that came close to articulating how much I love and miss you. Probably because there are none. This is unnatural, it's unreal. I shouldn't have to express how much I hate that I'm here and you're gone, because you should be the one that's here. And so, they've been impossible to find. Unreachable. Unspeakable.**

**All I'm left with is: I love you. I loved you then, I love you now.**

**I wish I knew where you were, exactly, wherever that may be - as long as it isn't nowhere. I wish I could know that you can still feel my love, and understand that I'm always with you. You're always with me, you know.**

**If you look down here and see me smiling, it's because I'm happy. I am. I met Rick and Carl and Judith, and they've shown me joy again; they've made me better. But it doesn't mean that I don't miss you with every fiber of my being. It doesn't mean that I'm not thinking of you. You will forever be the great love of my life, because it will forever be true that your life was my life's best part. I love you always, Peanut.**

**-Mommy**

Judith stared at Michonne as she spoke through her tears, her confusion apparent as she babbled at her, and reached out, wanting to be in her arms. But Rick held on to her, wanting to give Michonne the space to complete her mission.

"I can take her," she said, once she dropped Andre's letter to his plot. She held out her arms, and Judith was doing her best to tear out of her father's clutches.

"Are you sure?" he questioned. "She'll be fine."

"No, I'd like to," she nodded, wiping at her tears. She took the toddler into her embrace, and her little hands immediately went to Michonne's face, trying to dab her face with the pads of her fingers. "You're so sweet," she grinned back at her. With a face like that staring back at her, it was hard to keep crying. "Thank you, Jellybean."

Rick watched the two of them for a moment, smiling at the small interaction that seemed to have brought Michonne back to them. "You okay?" he asked warily.

"Stop asking me that," she returned, holding onto Judith's hand now. "Carl, come join us."

"We just wanna make sure this isn't too much."

"I'm not gonna break," she promised, balancing their baby in one arm as she opened the third envelope. "This is emotional, but we knew it would be."

Rick nodded as Carl came and kneeled on the other side of Michonne, the four of them staring at the third empty hole in the ground as she spoke her final letter into the universe.

**Dear Lori,**

**I realize that this may be strange, given the fact that we never met, and in fact, I regret that we never had the opportunity to know one another. But in a sense, it feels as though I do know you, as I've had the joy and profound privilege of getting to know your children. Through Carl and Judith, I feel as though I have this unique connection to Lori Grimes, and it's been an honor to meet you. I know that I'm preaching to the choir in remarking on this, but Carl is absolutely exquisite. He's unique, and smart, and brave, and so heartbreakingly thoughtful that I often find myself wondering where he came from. And then I remember that he came from you and Rick.**

**I know that you only got nine months with Judith, and it aches to know that you'll never get to look into those giant, curious eyes, or hold those little hands. She likes to hold on tight, and you can tell, already, that she'll be the type to love big and love hard. And I imagine that that's how you were. That's what I feel from her, that's what I recognize when Rick and Carl speak of you. I promise you that I'll love her back, just the same. She'll have family dinners and bedtime stories, and kisses, and hugs, and Christmas gifts and birthday parties. She will have someone that loves her just as much as you. I don't know that she'll have kids her own age to play with, or that she won't wish she did. I know that worries Carl, and I can't promise that will change. But I do promise she'll have me. I will be here, for as long as I can, as often as I can, and she will be okay. We'll be okay.**

**I don't know if it's appropriate to thank you for sharing your family with me, but please know that I am eternally grateful. I was wandering, lost, and hurt, and it was Rick, Carl, and Judith that found me, and they reminded me how to live. And I'm truly not sure what would've happened to me otherwise. I think this world would've consumed me. So I mean it when I say that they saved my life.**

**Maybe it means something that I was the first person Rick met after you. I don't know. But I do think everything happens for a reason, and sometimes we're not privy to knowing why. But I will love them, Lori. With everything that I have, and even more after that. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I already do. They're safe with me.**

**Perhaps, when you have a moment, you can look in on Andre and Mike for me? Just to make sure they're okay up there? Or maybe… you're already somewhere together. That would be nice.**

**-Michonne**

She dropped the final letter into the final resting place, and Rick and Carl immediately began using their hands to push the mounds of dirt back over the holes, filling them completely. She looked on with Judith, trying to stop herself from crying again. They were mostly happy tears, but there was still an ache there that was hard to ignore. "Thank you for doing this with me," she said to Rick and Carl, and even Judith. "It means a lot."

Rick wiped the dirt from his hands as he finished his task, resting back on his knees, and glanced at Michonne. "You know you don't have to thank us for this."

"No, I do." She took three of the flowers Carl had set between them, and carefully placed one atop each of the freshly filled holes. "I know this probably looks crazy, but you supported me anyway."

"It's not crazy at all," he assured her. "Believe me, I'm the expert."

She smiled as she handed over the remaining three flowers, and the four of them all stood from the ground in unison. "I won't argue with that." She watched as Rick stooped down in front of the Andersons' plots, and very sweetly left a lily on Jessie, Ron, and Sam's graves. He nodded before looking up to the sky, and she wondered what he was thinking in that moment.

And then, he expressed it in a very simple sentiment, his voice quietly haunting as he spoke to their ghosts, "I'm sorry this happened to you."

Michonne gazed at him sympathetically, knowing that he still felt some responsibility for them, and loving his compassion. She loved that despite everything he'd been through, he still  _felt_  things deeply. He had passed that on to his children, and even to her, and it was yet another reason she was in love with him.

Rick stood with a heavy sigh and looked back at Michonne for confirmation that the task was complete. "You ready?"

She looked down at Judith, the toddler's head sleepily rested against her chest, and she nodded. "Yeah," she grinned. "We have a party to get to."

* * *

_So I just kept dreaming_  
_Yeah, I just kept dreaming_  
_It wasn't very hard  
_ _I spent all this time trying to figure out why nobody on my side_

"That's a beautiful picture," Morgan declared as he approached his friend, toting a tumbler of whiskey in each of his hands. One for Rick and one for himself.

Rick hesitantly pulled his gaze from watching Michonne and Judith share a slice of cake, and focused in on the photo behind him as he took in Morgan's compliment. The photo, of course, being the one of him and Michonne. "Thank you," he said, accepting both the drink and the praise. "It's from when we first arrived here."

Morgan nodded, not at all surprised to hear that it was from before they'd actually gotten together. They had always given off that vibe to him, and he had been more stunned to hear that Rick was pursuing someone else when he arrived. "You know, when you came back to King County with her last year, it made me wonder..." His eyes scanned the picture once more before he looked over at Rick. "I thought surely to myself, 'Rick got himself a new woman.'"

"It wasn't like that at all," he chuckled, remembering how far gone he was at the time. How little he trusted Michonne back then. "It was damn near the opposite," he had to admit as he took a small sip of his drink.

"I know now," Morgan nodded back at him. "But at the time, I didn't know your wife had died so recently. I didn't know... Hell, I barely recognized you." He closed his eyes as he, too, thought back to that awful time in his life. "Maybe I just wanted to believe it. That you could be all right." He opened them again, and turned to look at the party surrounding them. The music, the laughter, the life. "But I saw you and your boy with this woman, the three of you walking off together with that baby crib. I said to myself, 'If Rick could move on. If he could find his wife, lose her, and still manage to find somebody to spend his life with... maybe all hope isn't lost." Morgan took a gulp of his own drink as he nodded again. And he realized that even though he was wrong, he was right. "And here I am."

Rick glanced at him, and then stared into his glass as it all flooded his memories. It was just about a year ago, and so much had changed. "If it hadn't been for you, seeing  _you_  that way, I don't know what would've happened to me, Morgan. I was spiraling."

"I guess we were put here to keep saving each other then," he grinned.

Rick had to chuckle, as it certainly did seem that way. "Happily ever after together, after all," he said, harking back to their last interaction back in King County. "We came back."

"To say the least."

Rick took a glance around the room, taking in his friends, his family, his community, and he couldn't help but smile. His daughter was across the room, enjoying her birthday party with the person she would come to know as her mother. And his son was in another corner of the room with his friends – not just some kids he'd found to occupy his time, but in Enid, he had someone that truly cared for him. And it was a relief to know that Carl was okay.

The rest of his people were scattered around the room with their drinks and their food, and their smiles. Glenn in charge of the music, while Maggie went around with a camera, recording everyone. Carol trying to make sure everyone had enough to eat, while Eugene and Tara made sure they ate. Daryl and Abraham were on the front porch, drinking beers and probably not talking, much in the same way he and Morgan weren't at the moment. It was all so wonderfully mundane. He knew these people could wake up tomorrow and take down an army of walkers if they needed to, but for now, they wouldn't have to. For now, they could breathe. And finally, they weren't just alive, but they were living.

_See I've been having me a real good time  
_ _But it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be all right_

* * *

Darkness had fallen when Michonne stepped outside onto her back porch, where Rick was sitting quietly, staring out into oblivion. She walked towards him, tiptoeing her bare feet across the cool wood in her approach. She didn't speak, and neither did he, as she stood in front of him, between his legs, and ran her fingers through his soft curls. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, burying his face in her torso as he inhaled her sweet scent and she continued to rub his head. The two of them simply reveled in being close to one another.

"I love you," he whispered against her body, still squeezing tightly.

"I love you, too, Rick." She gazed down at him, getting lost in the way the moonlight highlighted the dark and light brown of his curls, and even the flecks of gray mixed in. She grinned at the sight. "I was hoping I'd find you out here."

He could hear the smile in her voice and pulled back to get a look at her face. "Why's that?"

"I don't know." She slowly pulled out of their embrace and took a seat beside him. Close to him. "I like it when it's just us, out here in the moonlight. After spending all day entertaining people... I just wanted to be with you."

He nodded in agreement and sat back in his seat. He thought about all the time he'd spent with her on that bench, staring at that ugly steel wall as they talked or laughed or simply sat together in silence. It was their safe space, and he loved when it was just the two of them, too. "I watched you all day today," he said, "and I didn't know it then, but it was this moment that I was waiting for. Wishing for. Just you and me."

She smiled again, closing her eyes as she leaned in to Rick, resting her entire body against him, leaning her head in the crevice between his neck and shoulder. "You and me," she repeated with a quiet sigh.

_So please don't take my feeling I have found at last_  
_So please don't take my feeling I have found at last  
_ _If I wanted to, I'd be all right_

The two of them sat there for a long time, Michonne listening to Rick's heartbeat, while he listened to her breathing, both of them faint, but steady. The level of comfort between them was so apparent.

"Today was perfect, you know," he quietly proclaimed. "From start to finish."

"And it's not even finished yet," she quipped, smirking sleepily at her joke.

"If I had to bet, I'd say you're about five minutes from snoring on my shoulder, so you probably shouldn't be making any promises you can't keep."

"I'm wide awake, thank you very much." She had to suppress her yawn so as not to give herself away, and then sat up straight. "See?"

"Get back here," he said, already missing the warmth of her body. "And I'm serious. I'm trying to thank you here."

"Thank me for what?"

"For today," he said, pulling her back into his arms. "The day Judith was born wasn't exactly a great day for us. I mean, you know." He took her hand, locking their fingers, before resting them on her lap. "And I wasn't sure how Carl would take it. I always wonder how a family is supposed to handle a birthday when the mother dies in childbirth. That has to make it bittersweet or somethin'. But… you made today perfect. You made it special for all of us, and that means a lot."

"Rick," she whispered, shaking her head against him. "The three of you made my life special. You have to stop thanking me."

"I will spend the rest of my life thanking you," he returned genuinely.

_So I just kept going_  
_I just kept going, and hoping I'm growing near_  
_Well that's good and fine  
_ _I spent all this time trying to find my way here_

Michonne immediately closed her eyes, trying to stop tears from coming out, but she knew for certain they wanted to. She tried to make a joke instead, and lighten the earnest moment. "The rest of your life? You really wanna make that promise?"

"Well at the rate things are going, the rest of my life could be just another week or so."

"Stop it," she chuckled, punching him in the thigh with her knuckles. "You better find some way to become immortal, because I'm not letting you die."

He couldn't help but laugh at her very serious tone as she made an utterly ridiculous proclamation. "You're not  _letting_  me die?"

"So you can leave me with two or three or four kids?" she scoffed. "No, sir. We don't die."

"And we have four kids now?"

"Well don't be ridiculous, we have two  _now_ ," she stated as if he were the silly one. "But I mean, birth control isn't exactly in production these days. I'm already rationing what Denise gave me, as is. So we're gonna run out, and all the condoms are gonna expire and then what? We can't have sex anymore? Please. So we might as well get used to the idea now."

"You're adorable," he smirked at her, amused.

"Oh, so I can't call you adorable, but you can use it for me?" She sighed heavily, pretending to be exasperated. "I'm not adorable, Rick. I'm sexy."

"You're that, too."

"But not adorable," she maintained. "Adorable women don't give head like I do. Don't call me adorable."

He snorted in response, trying to keep himself from laughing too loudly. "Are you drunk?"

"I think maybe, a little bit," she giggled, sighing again. "Carol and I finished off the Jack Daniels while we were cleaning. I think it's catching up to me."

"That much is clear," he noted, still completely entertained by it.

"Don't judge me, Rick. I'm still very sharp."

"No judgment here," he promised. He was grinning at their entire exchange, feeling some added layer of happiness at the carefreeness of it all. "I like you drunk."

_And I've been having me a real fun time  
_ _And it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be all right_

"You like me any way you can get me."

He had to concede that that was true, nodding as he yawned, "Can't argue with facts."

"I'm pretty sure you argue with facts all the time, but all right."

"I disagree," he immediately shot back.

"And there you go."

"First of all..." He began to protest, but decided to reposition himself first, stretching his body along their porch bench, resting his head in Michonne's lap. "That's better."

She laughed, running her fingers through his hair again when he didn't finish his sentence. "'First of all' what?"

"First of all, that was your opinion, and you can't just use your own statement to prove yourself right."

"So you're trying to deny that you're not generally argumentative?"

"Not if you present me with facts," he denied. "No."

"Rick..."

"You've gotta present a better case than this."

"Rick, just on Monday, we meet this guy, Jesus," Michonne started, recalling the events of earlier in the week.

"His name is Paul, but okay."

"He said to call him Jesus, I'm calling him Jesus," she shot back, her words slightly slurring. "Anyway. He brings us to his giant community of how many people?"

"He claims two hundred, but..."

"See! How do you not believe something that's plainly being presented to you?"

"I'm skeptical," he shrugged, smiling up at her. "Sue me."

"I just don't know how you can be skeptical of facts," she chuckled. "When they asked for help? Sure, I can understand being wary of that. But to not believe they have a full farm when they're showing us their fresh corn and shit? You're insane."

"Well I'm sorry, but I just don't understand how all these sanctuaries are just magically thriving all over Virginia. We have it good here, and I have no need to integrate with some other community that may or may not be what they claim."

"All right," she lifted her hands from his hair and his chest, holding them up in surrender. They'd had this discussion more than once since she returned from her run and their subsequent trip to this Hilltop community. There was no point in having it again. She didn't even disagree with him. "Let's talk about something else."

"Besides, this Negan person that they're having trouble with sounds like another Governor type, and god knows we don't need to get involved in anything like that."

"You're right," she agreed, repeating her previous request. "Let's move on."

"Unless he threatened us personally," he went on, obliviously ignoring her, "because then we would  _have_  to respond. But why should we go out on a limb for this-"

" _Rick_ ," Michonne cut him off by covering his mouth with her hand. When he began to lick her palm, she squealed and pulled back with an amused grin on her face. "You have no idea where my hand has been."

"I've got some idea," he shot back, quirking an eyebrow as he licked his bottom lip.

"You're awful."

"I'm fully aware," he smiled. He was gazing up at her and then his stare drifted up towards the stars. They were bright that night, as if they were twinkling just for the two of them. "You know, I didn't think about it until you said it in your letter to Lori, but I do think it means something that you walked into my life the day after she left..."

"Mmm," she smiled to herself, letting her head fall back against the house as she closed her eyes again. "What do you think it means?"

"I don't know, maybe... I mean maybe fate did intervene, like you said. But is it crazy to think that Lori sent you herself? That she saw you with Andrea and just knew you should be my person?"

Michonne was instantly moved by the thought, and could feel the sting of tears again, as she shook her head. She just loved that notion – she was  _his person_. "That's not crazy at all, baby."

"Maybe the universe knew all along," he allowed, "maybe this all happened so we could find each other. But it's gotta be some cosmic miracle for two people to find each other and be exactly everything the other person needs. How often must that happen?"

"I dunno," she whispered, allowing her tears to fall then. "Back in the old days, people always went around thinking they'd found their soul mates."

"But were they right?"

"I wasn't," she admitted, referring to Mike. "We were good together when it was good, but..."

"Lori and I weren't even that sometimes," he remembered as he watched Michonne's tears stream down her face. He reached up to wipe one of them away. "I think you and I are right about this one."

She held his hand there, over her face, her smile widening at his words, at his touch. "I think so, too."

_Please don't take this feeling  
_ _I have found at last_

"I'm so glad you didn't give up on me," he said, thinking back to everything he'd done when they first arrived to Alexandria. He flashed back to their conversation in his bedroom, where she said she was still with him. And then the discussion they had at their kitchen table the following night. "You said we could find a way, and we did."

"This wasn't exactly what I had in mind, you know."

"I know." He took her hand and held it with both of his, absently playing with the tips of her fingers as he stared at the empty house next to theirs. "But you were still right."

"Well, I'm always right, so there's that."

Rick opened his mouth to combat her assertion, and then smartly decided against it. "I'm not sayin' anything."

She giggled at the fact that he had to actually press his lips together to keep from protesting. "You want to, though."

He only shook his head, trying not to smile.

"You're so silly," she sighed happily as she ran her thumb over his bottom lip. "I hope we stay just like this," she added, staring down at his lovely face. His pouty pink lips, and dimpled cheeks, the freckles on his nose, highlighted by the moon, and those gorgeous, daunting blue eyes that could see through to her soul.

Since the world ended, she was always so afraid of wanting things for herself. She didn't think she deserved them. But in the year that she'd known Rick, the pieces fell into place, and she saw herself in him - someone being consumed by their mistakes. And through him, she learned that it didn't have to be that way. Because of him, she could say, unequivocally, that she deserved to be happy. Because she knew he deserved to be happy, too. And she would always be a little bit scared of tomorrow, because happiness was a risk, and maybe even a fool's errand. But they'd died and gone to war, they got to come back, and now, they had one more day with a chance. And that was all she needed.

_Please don't take my feeling I have found at last  
_ _Yeah, if I wanted to, I'd be all right_

"Michonne," Rick called out to her softly. He had closed his eyes, but he could feel her fingers on his lips, and the sound of her quiet exhales.

"Yeah?"

"Remember how you said you're with me as long as I'm with you?"

"I do," she whispered, still studying the lines and curves of his face. "Why?"

He stared up at her then, locking in on her questioning beautiful brown gaze, and he smiled. She had snuck up on him in the most wonderful way, and he had no plans on letting go. "Because I'm with you forever."

_If I wanted to, I'd be all right_

-End-

* * *

Lyrics: "This Feeling" – Alabama Shakes (Sound & Color)


End file.
